


So Many Stars Tonight

by Niceto_Thetya



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: (Well. Ginger ale), Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Mermaids, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Canonical Character Death, Complicated Relationships, F/F, Femslash February 2021, Fluff, Governess Clara Oswin Oswald, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Jodie Whittaker is The Master (Doctor Who), Light Angst, My poor scientific knowledge, Oneshot Prompts Challenge, Oops the angst got heavy, Regeneration, Reunions, Technically canon complient because time travel but you can read it either way, There's no sci-fi stuff in the Victorian oneshot so up to you, They get eaten by a book, but only sort of, i guess?, weeping angels but only sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-15 10:15:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 27
Words: 51,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29187672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Niceto_Thetya/pseuds/Niceto_Thetya
Summary: Prompt Fills for Femslash February 2021Just a bunch of unrelated Oneshots for different NuWho wlw ships. It'll be a mix of canon compliant and AU, and I'll add to the tags as they come up.
Relationships: Ashildr | Lady Me/Clara Oswin Oswald, Echo Clara Oswin Oswald/Missy, Heather (Doctor Who: The Pilot)/Bill Potts, Missy/Clara Oswin Oswald, The Doctor | Theta Sigma/The Master | Koschei (Doctor Who: Academy Era), Thirteenth Doctor/Clara Oswin Oswald, Thirteenth Doctor/Idris (Doctor Who: The Doctor's Wife), Thirteenth Doctor/Missy, Thirteenth Doctor/River Song, Thirteenth Doctor/The Doctor's TARDIS, Thirteenth Doctor/The Lumiat, Thirteenth Doctor/Yasmin Khan, W!Master/Yasmin Khan, Yasmin Khan/The Master
Comments: 70
Kudos: 80





	1. Soufflaker: In My Dreams Shadows Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor is having strange dreams about a woman in red. Who’s this phantom from her past, and why is she coming back now?

**Day One**  
**Prompt: Red**  
**Ship: Thirteen/Clara Oswald**

**TW for mentioned canon character death (ie. one of Clara's echos)**

**(I know that Twelve got his memories of Clara back but I'm a total sap for this kind of thing...)  
**

  
“Is this right?”

The Doctor glanced up, distracted from watching Graham and Ryan- who had almost immediately gotten distracted from finding period-appropriate outfits in the TARDIS wardrobe when they’d found her (admittedly impressive) collection of swords. Yaz was standing in front of one of the half-dozen racks of dresses, holding one up for her to inspect.

It was particularly beautiful, in a vibrant red which was a little too bright to be realistically medieval, and patterned with flowers climbing up the skirts and undersleaves. The lining of its oversleeves was silver, matching the belt left in a loose knot around the hanger, and even without seeing it modelled, she somehow knew exactly how the skirts would fall. She was struck with an odd, half-forgotten memory of being starstruck by someone she couldn’t place stepping out of the TARDIS wardrobe in that dress.

“Doctor?” Yasmin eventually asked, sounding a little concerned at her friend’s extended silence, snapping her out of the odd deja vu.

“Oh- Um. It’s pretty, but it’s a little early for where we’re goin’. Maybe-“ She tore her eyes away from the uncomfortably familiar dress, moving towards the next rack over, and picking up a green one in a later style to offer instead.

She took a few steps back towards the red dress once Yasmin was distracted with the new one, trying to place who had worn it and when she had known them. It had to have been lifetimes ago, for it to be so hazy for her. She ran her fingers over the soft velvet once, feeling the memory pushing right on the edge of her consciousness, before being all-too-quickly drawn out of it by a yelp of pain coming from behind them, showing that the swordplay had apparently gotten a little out of hand.

Their adventures for the day had gone smoothly- or as smoothly as they ever did. They’d gotten to see some pretty cool history, and had escaped without injury- though a few misplaced words did wind her up in a duel at one point. She’d followed the fam to bed at a reasonable hour for once; it wasn’t as though Time Lords really needed much sleep, but there was only so much time she could spend poking around in the TARDIS engines waiting for them to wake up. Still, sleep certainly wasn’t coming easy for her.

Every time she closed her eyes there she was again. A woman (and a stunningly beautiful one at that) standing by the TARDIS wearing that vibrant red dress with her hair loose at her back- unmistakably 21st century despite her outfit. Her eyes shone like the stars themselves, and they held so much love it made her chest ache, but the Doctor just couldn’t give her a name. She had to have been important, once upon a time, to still hold such a pull on the Doctor’s hearts, so why couldn’t she remember?

“Who were you?”

Her own voice sounded hollow in the darkness, and the woman in her mind just smiled, bringing a finger up to her lips, and shushing her silently, before disappearing back into the police box behind her.

The girl in the red velvet gown came to the Doctor every night after that. She didn’t always look the same, but red seemed to be her colour.

The second time she saw the mysterious figure, she was crouched against a wall in the snow, all scarlet corsets and petticoats with a shawl wrapped around her shoulders, her face in the Doctor’s hands.

“You’ll know what to do.” The Doctor found herself speaking unprompted, and the voice was hers, but the words didn’t sound quite right in the broad Sheffield accent, as though they were echos of ones said by another Doctor, a very long time ago.

Her woman in red smiled a little, and cocked her head to the side, giving her a look that screamed ‘I win’.

“Not if I forget.”

The next night was sweet. She was sitting on the TARDIS steps in a scarlet tank top and plaid pyjama bottoms, an oversized grey cardigan thrown over the whole thing. She didn’t look half as put together as she had the first few nights, but she was still beautiful, watching the blonde lean against the console with interest. It felt more intimate this time- domestic in a way that the Doctor didn’t remember having since Darillium.

The console room was the same as ever- crystal columns emitting their warm yellow glow, but somehow the light on her woman in red’s face looked bluish, as though she’d been superimposed into the setting from elsewhere.

“Why do you always look at me like that?”

“Like what?” The Doctor spoke, and this time it was a little more reflexive than before. She felt more like an actor in the story than a puppet saying someone else’s lines.

“Like you’re remembering something sad.”

By night four, she was leaning out of a window. It was dark, and the Doctor didn’t recognise the house, beyond that it was Earth, in the 21st century, and she was for some reason sitting in a folding chair next to a hedge.

Her mystery girl was wearing another red dress this time, mottled with black and paired with another grey cardigan to guard against the chill of the night. She was struck by how pretty this girl looked in the moonlight.

“What happened to me?” She asked, looking to the Doctor as though she knew the answers.

“Don’t you remember?”

The brunette shook her head, leaning a little further out of the window.

“I was scared. Really scared.”

The Doctor tried her best to ignore how much those words made her hearts ache for the woman she knew so well and yet didn’t know at all. What had happened to take all of this from her?

The fifth night was uncomfortably vivid. They were at some party or other; It was still earth, and she’d have guessed England in the 1810s. She’d been dancing- she could still feel her hearts pounding from it, and now she was standing at the edge of the crowded room, pressed a little too close against her mystery companion for comfort in the tight space.

Her lady in red was as radiant as ever, wearing a dress of thin scarlet cotton which fit the era well enough, though it was clearly of modern construction. She stood out even in the crowd, the most beautiful woman there by a mile, with a smile that seemed to set the whole room alight.

“Thank you, Doctor.” She said simply, moving a little bit closer. One of her hands found the blonde’s waist, and all of a sudden her mystery girl was leaning up and pressing a kiss to the corner of her lips, as though she wasn’t quite sure whether kissing her properly was okay. “I’ll never forget tonight.”

The scene began to fade as quickly as it had come, and the Doctor was left with a phantom kiss still tingling at the edge of her lips, breathless and desperate to know who this woman was, that seemed so determined to haunt her.

On the sixth night, the Doctor was alone. She was standing in a claustrophobic little room she couldn’t place, but which she’d certainly like to be out of soon, breathing heavily from running she didn’t remember doing. Wherever they were it wasn’t earth; the technology was years ahead of anything she’d seen on pervious nights, and there was a sour, metallic taste in the air she didn’t like one bit.

“You made them forget me?” She asked, getting that sick feeling of being puppeteer again. Made _who_ forget her?

“Good, right?” That was her voice- her mystery girl in red. She spun around, but saw nothing- it was coming from the intercom. “…and here comes the door.”

Sure enough the door behind her began to open, and the Doctor quickly turned around, a grin plastered across her face as she caught a glimpse of white floor, even despite the uncertain situation. She was excited to see what her phantom friend would be wearing today.

To say that she was disappointed, was an understatement. Horrified would probably be closer, but she wasn’t sure if even that could convey her feelings on what she saw.

“Rescue me, Rainbows, and show me the stars.”

The Doctor couldn’t even focus on the fact that it sounded wrong. The words didn’t sound quite right, but the distorted, robotic voice mixing with the painfully familiar one coming from the intercom speakers drowned that fact out.

She looked at the gleaming, blood-red dalek in front of her and she already knew who it had been.

“I’m human.”

There was nothing playing over the intercom, just the tinny, robotic voice of the most hateful creature in the universe, somehow sounding terrified.

“Not anymore.” The Doctor’s voice was quiet, terrified at her own reality. Was this how she’d lost her? Was this why she didn’t remember? Had she blocked it out?

Everything started moving quicker, than, as if she’d done what she came for. All of a sudden the Doctor had her back to the door, and the dalek that had once been her woman in red was right in front of her, and she should have been terrified but somehow she wasn’t. Her hearts ached for what she’d lost, but she knew deep inside herself that this dalek wouldn’t hurt her. As if on cue, the doors behind her opened.

“I fought the daleks, and I am human.” The robotic voice was mixing with the soft one on the speakers again. “Remember me.”

The next night, the Doctor didn’t sleep. She waited- waited the agonisingly long time before her fam went to bed, and then she was in the TARDIS wardrobe again, tearing through racks of clothing looking for something. The red velvet dress, the tank top, the regency gown, and the red and black dress. She spent hours picking over them with a fine tooth comb, looking for anything that could be useful, until eventually, clinging onto the shoulder of the medieval gown she found a single hair. It wasn’t much, but it’d be enough.

“Is she still out there?” The Doctor asked, placing that single strand into the DNA scanner on the TARDIS console as though it was the most precious thing in the world. If her beautiful enigma was anywhere out there, she knew that this would take her there.

They landed somewhere in Utah, 2014, and when the Doctor emerged and saw a darkened diner, she immediately became a little disheartened. Who would be out here at this hour? She pushed in through the mercifully unlocked doors, just in case, and for a moment looked around the empty dining room, deflated, before a back door emerged.

“Hey, I’m sorry we’re closed.” The woman said, stepping out of the back-room looking ready for bed. Her hair was piled up on top of her head in a messy bun and she was wearing those red plaid bottoms from her dreams and a wine-red hoodie that the Doctor recognised as one which had belonged to her previous incarnation.

“Clara.” The Doctor’s voice came out a little strangled, and she took a few shaky steps forwards, having to repress the urge to run to her.

“Have we met?”

“It’s me!” Well that probably didn’t help matters much, though it did earn her a chuckle from Clara.

“Me’s back there.” She gestured at the back room, “Try again.”

“No, no- Clara it’s me.” The Doctor gestured at herself, grinning despite everything. “I got a new face but-“

She didn’t need Clara to say anything to know that she’d understood, the brunette took off running at her almost the minute she made the connection, throwing her arms around the Doctor’s neck with enough force to almost knock her over. She held her back tightly in return, oddly relieved to find out she was still taller, if by a lot less this time.

“I can’t believe it’s you. You remembered.” Clara pulled back, her fingers finding the blonde’s face, holding it in both hands as though afraid she’d disappear again if they were separated for even a moment.

The kiss took her by surprise- it wasn’t tentative like the one she’d gotten at the regency ball, it was hurried, passionate, and full of years’ worth of pent-up emotions. By the time they finally pulled apart, the Doctor’s hands were on Clara’s waist, and they were both breathing heavily.

“Course I remembered. You told me to.”

She didn’t need another reason- Missy had been right about one thing. The Doctor would go to hell and back for Clara Oswald, and she’d be making damn sure that now she had her impossible girl back in her arms, she wouldn’t be separated from her ever again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title comes from In My Dreams from Anastasia.
> 
> In my dreams  
> Shadows call  
> Theres a light at the end of a hall  
> Then my dreams fade away  
> But I know it all will come back  
> One day
> 
> Chapter title playlist can be found here: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5CUnm7fntJlE2mlfQv4jvJ?si=8_tTLDsDRYyC2t9tyOUPDA


	2. Thasmin: Joan's Crazy Brown Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Human AU Thasmin for Femslash February.

**Day Two**  
**Prompt: Pride**  
**Ship: Thirteen/Yasmin Khan**

“You’ve gotta stay still unless you want me to muck it up.”

The little box of face-paint was sitting open on the couch beside them alongside an old eyeliner pallet she didn’t mind muddying the colours of, though she was already considering moving it after the third time Joan’s elbow nearly ended up in one of the colours. Yaz was more than used to her inability to sit still, but it didn’t mean that it wasn’t tricky to deal with on days like these.

She wasn’t entirely sure why she’d agreed to sit painting the little rainbow onto Joan’s cheek, other than that her friend didn’t have the steadiest hands. It was hardly necessary when her outfit for the parade already looked even more like a rainbow had thrown up on her than usual, but Yaz never been great at saying no to her.

“I don’t get ‘ow you do this every day.” She muttered, not seeming to realise that talking was almost as bad as moving around in terms of making the job harder, though she did tip her head back a little to try and balance that out. “It’d drive me mad.”

“You think I paint my face every day?” Yaz laughed a little, placing two fingers gently under Joan’s chin and tilting her head up so that she could get a proper look at what she was doing. One of the lines was a little smudged, but it wasn’t too noticeable- nothing worse than what would be happening later today anyway.

“You do makeup. S’basically the same thing.”

“So isn’t. Now stay still.”

“Yes _Miss Khan_.”

The response may have been sarcastic, offered in that sing-song tone used by primary school children, but that cheeky little grin she was wearing was more than cute enough that she could get away with it.

“Oh shut it, _Doctor Smith_.” She responded, trying to keep up that same teasing tone, but something about calling Joan _Doctor_ made her mouth go dry. There was no way that that should have been as hot as it was.

“M’not a Doctor yet.”

“And you’re never gonna be if I put the paintbrush through your eye first. Now hush up and let me finish.”

Yaz hadn’t even gotten through the next stripe of colour when it became clear she was already struggling with keeping quiet. That was another thing she’d never been very good at.

The quiet stretched out for another full minute, with the only noise being the quiet clink of the paintbrush against the side of the waterglass.

“Yaz?” Joan murmured, thankfully waiting until the brush was away from her skin so that she wouldn’t make a mess of her hard work.

Yaz only hummed in response, a little distracted trying to find an approximate shade of blue in the in what they had. The first she’d tried hadn’t showed up particularly well against Joan’s skin, so she was hoping for something better.

“You look really pretty like this.”

That was enough to make Yaz pause, her face suddenly heating up slightly. “Thank you.” She managed, her voice sounding a little quieter than she’d have liked. The smile she offered in return was genuine, if a little shy, though she still couldn’t quite meet Joan’s eyes. She was pretty sure if she did she’d melt.

Crushing on her best friend wasn’t exactly the smartest thing she’d ever done, but the least she could do was not make this any worse for herself.

“No, really.” The blonde sounded so earnest that it was tricky not to smile, “Your eyes look nice- I mean. Uh. Eyeshadow. Your eyeshadow stuff looks nice. Do you always do that?”

If her face hadn’t been burning before, it certainly was now. “Oh. Um, thanks. I’ve never really done the whole pride thing before so it’s new.”

“It suits you, I like all the pink. You always look nice in pink, though. Like that dress you wore to-“ Joan cut herself off before she could wind up on a tangent. “Sorry. I’ll keep still so you can finish.”

“Thanks. I’m nearly done, promise.”

Their eyes met for a moment, and tried to ignore the way that her heartrate picked up a little, pounding a traitorous rhythm against her ribs. Could Joan hear it in the quiet? Still, she couldn’t help it, they were so close (but they had to be, didn’t they? The lighting in the room was nowhere near bright enough for her to do this without getting up close) and for a long moment all she could focus on were Joan’s eyes. They were pretty (but what about Joan _wasn’t_ pretty), and just like their owner they were so much deeper than they first appeared.

Yaz shifted closer again, leaning one knee against the arm of the sofa, her face intimately close to the other’s now, trying to repair the smudging from Joan’s talking earlier.

“Sorry, just gimme a sec t’ fix this line before I-“

Yaz didn’t get the chance to finish her sentence. There’d only been a few inches gap between their faces, and Joan had closed them in a second, sending their lips crashing together with a clumsy urgency that didn’t seem particularly planned, especially given how quickly she pulled back.

“I’m so sorry I just-“ Joan looked panicked, those pretty hazel eyes wide and apologetic, her lips still slightly parted and smudged with Yaz’s dark lipstick. She made a move to sit up, but Yaz was still half-kneeling over her, paintbrush in hand. “I should go.”

“Don’t you dare.”

Still breathing heavily, she finally looked Joan in the eyes, wanting to make sure.

“That wasn’t just a-“ Wasn’t a just what? A one off? A bad decision? A moment of madness?

For once, the blonde was silent (it was honestly a little unnerving for someone who knew her as well as Yaz did. Joan was _never_ this quiet) shaking her head subtly enough that she could maintain the eye contact.

There was another too-long moment of silence before her mind finally seemed to catch up, and Joan began speaking again.

“I’m sorry, just- you look really pretty today, and I wasn’t thinking properly, and I just-“

It was Yaz’s turn to cut her off this time, kissing her more firmly than before, so there could be no doubt that this was something she actually wanted. The position was a little awkward, and she had to fumble to put the paintbrush down somewhere that wouldn’t stain the sofa, but she was actually _kissing_ Joan Smith, and there was a hand tangled in her hair and nothing else in that moment mattered.

By the time they pulled apart again they were both breathing heavily, and Yaz’s fingers were stained with colour from where she’d smudged the rainbow painted on Joan’s cheek.

“I told Bill we’d meet her before the parade starts.” It sounded a little stupid after all that, to be worried about punctuality, but focusing on something concrete tended to be what helped Yaz stay grounded in moments where she felt like she might take flight.

“I’ll text her and say we’ll be late.” She made no move to widen the gap between them, which was still no more than a few inches. That didn’t seem important right now.

“I smudged your rainbow.” Yaz glanced at the smudged paint marring her pale skin, unable to really bring herself to care about the wasted work.

“Then I guess there’s no ‘arm in doing this.” Joan’s lips quirked up into that wicked little smile from before she leant in to close the gap between them once more.

In the end, they were two hours late for the parade.

And Jack owed Clara £10.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title comes from Changing My Major from Fun Home
> 
> I’m changing my major to sex with Joan,  
> With a minor in kissing Joan.  
> Foreign study to Joan’s inner thighs,  
> A seminar on Joan’s ass in her Levi’s,  
> And Joan’s crazy brown eyes.
> 
> Full playlist of chapter titles can be found here: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5CUnm7fntJlE2mlfQv4jvJ?si=8_tTLDsDRYyC2t9tyOUPDA


	3. Thasmin: And All the Flowers Will Bloom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yaz and the Doctor take a break from the rest of Team TARDIS to have a date. The Doctor talks about home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So my original plan had been to post chapters 2 and 3 yesterday and 4 and 5 today so that I'd be up to date today without doing a big chapter dump. Then I got hammered and forgot to post this chapter- apologies if that means I'm not up-to-date until tomorrow!

**Day Three**  
Theme: Buttercup  
Ship: Thirteen/Yasmin Khan 

**(This is set post-spyfall, and pre-timeless children**

They were having what had to be quite possibly the calmest date they’d ever had- possibly owing to the fact that The Doctor didn’t actually have much to do with the planning of it. They’d set up in a park not too far from Yasmin’s home, leaving the TARDIS behind for a little while to just enjoy some time with nothing chasing them, and no life-or-death consequences to their actions.

Once the picnic had been polished off neither of them had been in any hurry to rush off again, and they’d fallen into a comfortable silence, with Yaz laying on her front on the blanket, letting the Doctor play with her hair so they could enjoy a little more of the weak not-quite-summer sun. Of course, if they’d wanted to they could have had this little picnic anywhere, with any weather they liked, but there was something reassuringly normal about the disappointing English weather and the familiar smell of home.

She wasn’t entirely sure what possessed her to do it, but Yaz found herself leaning over to pull one of the little buttercups out of the grass. She twirled it idly between two fingers for a few seconds before twisting around and holding it under the Doctor’s chin, much to the blonde’s surprise.

“Do y’like butter?” She asked, just barely holding back a giggle. After a few seconds when the weather proved a little too overcast to create the little yellow shadow against skin, she answered for herself. “Guess not.”

“Yeah I do! Love butter, me.”

The Doctor sounded baffled, and Yaz laughed again at the almost indignant note in her voice.

“It’s just a game, Doctor. Primary school kids do it- sometimes it like reflects yellow on your chin and that means you like butter.” She held the little flower out again, but it still didn’t work, so she tucked it behind the blonde’s ear instead. Yellow had always looked pretty on her.

“An’ it’s not workin’? Guess it’s not sunny enough for it today.”

“Guess not. Can’t believe you never did it when you were a kid, though. Everyone I know did.”

The Doctor pulled the buttercup out of her hair, turning it over gently between her fingers and inspecting it. “These are mostly an earth thing.” She explained, as though that much was obvious. Yaz supposed it should have been, there was just something so adorably human about this kind of date which made it easy to forget that her girlfriend was from so much further afield.

“Oh. Right. Yeah. Sorry, didn’t even think…” She glanced down at the little flower (in all honesty it was probably a weed) in the Doctor’s hands, and then back up at her. “Did you have a version of it? I mean, not buttercups, but like-“ She shrugged, not sure where that sentence was going, “Space buttercups?”

The Doctor giggled at that one. It was adorable.

“Space buttercups?” She leant forwards slightly, bopping the end of Yaz’s nose softly with one finger, a little smile playing across her lips. “You know I’m not from space, right? No one’s from space.”

Yaz felt a slight heat spread across her face, biting her lip and trying to hide her embarrassment. “I mean, I know you’re not from space. You said you were from-“ She tried to think back. She’d just about committed that brief conversation to memory (as she did with almost any scrap of information she got about the Doctor’s past), but the words felt alien on her tongue when she tried to speak them herself. “Kasterborous.”

The Doctor let out a soft hum of recognition at that, looking mildly surprised that Yaz remembered.

“Kasterborous is the star system. My home planet w-“ A brief shadow of _something_ darker crossed the Doctor’s face, though she hid it quickly enough that it might have never been there. “Is called Gallifrey.”

“Well did you have Gallifrey-ish buttercups?”

“Not really. There aren’t many flowers on Gallifrey, really- not like you’d think of them anyway. Flowering plants didn’t develop the same way as on Earth. There are a few brought in from off-world, but nothing native.”

Yaz blinked a few times at this new scrap of information. The Doctor coming from a world with no flowers. It didn’t seem right.

“What’s it like, your planet?” She eventually asked, feeling particularly bold stretched out here like this, looking up at the Doctor as she continued toying with the flower.

“Beautiful.” There was something wistful in the Doctor’s expression- suddenly seeming transported home across the galaxy. That look of stilted wonder suited her well enough that even if Yaz had been left with just that she probably would have been okay with it. “It’s- There are two suns, so it’s hotter than earth- when you complain about my hands being cold? And when you all got sunburn on Barcelona and I didn’t? That’s why. I’m built for hotter weather.”

Yaz raised an eyebrow, “And that’s why you wear cropped trousers all the time?” She tugged teasingly on the hem of said trousers.

That earned her a slight pout. “I’m used to it now! And they look nice.”

She cocked her head and gave a teasing hum, half-heartedly suggesting that _maybe_ she wasn’t as thrilled with the outfit as the Doctor was. The affronted look that won her was worth it, even if she did break into a smile to soften the insult a moment later.

“They suit you.” She relented, “So- Two suns and no flowers?”

The Doctor managed another little smile, laying back on the blanket and closing her eyes. Yaz didn’t need to see her expression to know that she was back there again, in her mind.

“No flowers. A lot of it’s red-rock and dust. Think-“ There was a slight pause. “Utah. Or Arizona, but a bit more Mars. Just these big stretches of desert and mountains and weird rocks which are _very_ fun to climb when you’re a kid.”

“Now _that_ I can imagine. Baby Doctor scramblin’ about.”

“It’s all pretty red. Orange sky, red suns, red grass-“

“Red _grass_?”

“That’s the bit that you struggle with? Yeah, red grass- and the trees have silver leaves too. Not all planets evolved on chlorophyl, you know.”

The Doctor fell silent after that, and Yaz watched her for a few moments, hoping she’d go on. She didn’t, but even if she didn’t know much about how people lived on Gallifrey (yet), Yaz was contented with the image she’d gotten. She could just about picture it, her Doctor as a little girl running around climbing rock formations and silvery trees, blonde hair shining with copper tones under the light of two scarlet suns.

“Can we go there, someday?”

The Doctor suddenly stiffened slightly beside her. “Not really.” There was a hint of forced cheer in her voice, suddenly sounding unmistakably false after her wonder at remembering home. “Told you I nicked the box, didn’t I? You don’ want me gettin’ arrested for grand theft TARDIS.”

“’Course not.” She knew there was likely more to the story, but she didn’t push it. The silence hung just a little too thick around them, before she finally spoke up again. “I’m just glad I didn’t try tellin’ you they taste like butter.” She made a vague gesture at the flower.

“Do they?” The Doctor’s eyes widened slightly, and before Yaz could actually stop her she was putting the whole thing in her mouth. After a good fifteen seconds, she opened her mouth again, sticking her tongue out and letting the flower fall onto the blanket. She had no right to be as cute as she was in that moment. “Nope.”

Yaz gave her a look, and then began trying to stand up. “Right, and on that note how about we pack up. Ryan and Graham will be looking for us.”

“Yeah. Alright, okay.”

The Doctor climbed off of the blanket, scrambling to help pack things up, letting a comfortable silence wash over them.

“Doctor?” Yaz eventually broke it, kneeling in the grass and stuffing the blanket back into her bag.

“Hmm?”

“Will ya tell me more about your planet? Not right away or owt, just- someday. When you’re ready.” She wasn’t sure what had _actually_ happened to keep the Doctor from returning, but there was something in her eyes when it came up that showed she wasn’t okay with it yet.

The blonde froze.

“It’s really not that interestin’.”

Yaz straightened up, standing just in front of the Doctor, her eyes tilted up to meet hers. 

“It sounds beautiful.”

There was another pause, something inscrutable crossing the Doctor’s features.

“D’ya trust me, Yaz?”

“’Course I do.” She responded, not hesitating for a moment.

A few seconds passed as the Doctor seemed to second-guess whatever she was planning, before she brought a hand up to cup Yaz’s cheek gently. For a moment it seemed like she was about to be kissed, and then an image flashed through her mind, clear and perfect and unfathomably real.

It was so much more beautiful than the Doctor had described it. A seemingly endless slope of crimson grass, dotted with something silvery that looked a little like clover. Those silver trees stood near the top, and a little blonde boy was racing towards them, tailed by another dark-haired one, both grinning at some unheard joke. The blonde lost his footing, and wound up rolling down the slope, giggling the whole time. There was something eerily familiar in his smile, and Yaz didn’t even have to ask who it was. She could feel the heat of the twin suns against her skin, and smell the odd metallic tang of the trees as the wind blew from that direction. In the distance, she caught a brief glimpse of a glass domed city.

The vision faded as quickly as it had come, and she came face to face with the Doctor again, taking a shaky breath.

“I was right. Beautiful.”

The Doctor’s lips quirked up into a slight smile, as her eyes scanned Yaz’s face.

“Eh. I’ve seen better.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title comes from ‘Come Home With Me’ from Hadestown.
> 
> A song to fix what’s wrong,  
> Take what’s broke and make it whole.  
> A song so beautiful,  
> It brings the world back into tune  
> Back into time  
> And all the flowers will bloom. 
> 
> Full playlist of chapter titles can be found here: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5CUnm7fntJlE2mlfQv4jvJ?si=8_tTLDsDRYyC2t9tyOUPDA


	4. Misffle: New, and a Bit Alarming.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Missy slips out of the vault for a little bit to make up for a past misdeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fingers crossed I should get Day Five up later tonight and be on track again (she writes, pretending she was on track in the first place). Also is it Missfle? Misffle? Missffle? Honetly Classy seems like it would have been an easier ship name for them.

**Day Four**  
**Prompt: Feather**  
**Ship: Missy/Clara Oswin Oswald**

It was rare they actually set the diner up for service, but on the occasions that they needed a break from running around the universe, it was nice to have a little mundanity- especially when they had no obligation to actually stick around. Setting up this far from civilisation they never got many customers, just the occasional traveller passing by. It’d been hours since anyone had actually come through the door, and Clara was sitting at the counter, scrawling in one of her journals. It was a habit she’d picked up from Me- though her own memory seemed to be fairing better than that of her companion. Something about Time Lord technology, she assumed, or her stint in the Doctor’s time stream. Whatever it was, she was grateful of it, it meant that her diaries were allowed to be more retrospective than detailed stories she was afraid of forgetting.

She must have been a little more caught up in her journaling than she’d thought, because she didn’t even notice they had a customer until something was being dropped down in front of her, making her jump about a mile into the air. It was a wooden box, long and thin, and very old-fashioned, though it didn’t look particularly _old_.

Clara scrambled to her feet quickly, dusting off the skirt of her blue waitress uniform, and turning to face the customer, a little flustered.

“I’m sorry I didn’t see you there, what were you wanti-“

She cut herself off, and given the smirk on the woman’s red-painted lips, that had been the intended effect.

Missy certainly wasn’t dressed for the desert, but she also didn’t look half as put together as the last time they’d seen one another. Her hair was piled up on top of her head in loose, messy curls, and while she was still wearing her usual purple skirt and lace-up boots, she’d ditched the purple-peacoat in favour of a dark shirt and a loose bow at her throat. She couldn’t help but think how pleased the Doctor would have been with that. _Bowties are cool._

“Not dead, then.” She managed, false confidence seeping into her tone. She glanced towards the back door which hid the TARDIS console, wondering if Me would be in earshot.

“Are you surprised? It’s like I keep telling you, Poppet, death is for other people.” Missy cocked her head to one side, her lips turning up into that wicked smirk she wore so well. “Like you, evidently.”

“How did you know?” Clara’s fingers tightened around the pen she was still holding, glancing uneasily between Missy and the box sitting on the diner counter.

“Because usually when I walk into a room you get scared and your heart picks up, and then you start getting your knickers in a twist, and you get embarrassed about that and your face goes all red.” Missy made a vague gesture at her chest. “No heartbeat, no circulation, no blushing. Can’t speak for the state of your knickers though.”

If Clara could have blushed she would have been bright red already.

“What do you want, Missy?”

“Can’t I just visit an old friend for no reason?” She asked, though the disbelief on the shorter woman’s face spoke for itself. She nodded to the box, which Clara gave another dubious look. “I brought you a present. Open it.”

“And how do I know that it’s not going to explode the minute I do?”

“You’re already dead, killing you wouldn’t be any fun- that and I don’t need you setting your pet immortal on me.” She whirled around, looking at the door that hid Me from view, but Missy just continued as though there hadn’t been an interruption. “Yes, yes. I know about her. I’m very clever and I make it my business to know what you’re up to. Now, open the box.”

Tentatively, Clara picked it up, her fingers curling around the edge of the lid, but not yet opening it. There was a half seconds pause, and suddenly Missy was standing behind her, a little too close for comfort, with her slender fingers curled surprisingly gently over hers on the box.

“See. If it was something dangerous I’d be getting far away from it.”

For some reason Clara found the words, as well as the hand pressed over her own, rather comforting. Missy had never seemed like the self-sacrificing sort. She took a breath, lifting the lid off of the box and revealing-

A feather.

Well, it wasn’t just a feather. The pointed nib of it, and the way that the barbs had bee cut away along most of it’s length betrayed it was a quill pen- an old one, by the looks of it.

She gave Missy a questioning look, scrutinising her for any hint of bad intentions. She was a little shocked to find the Time Lady looking almost flustered.

“You said you liked Austen.” She said, a little stiffly, as though it was an explanation.

Clara’s eyes widened, and she focused back on the pen. Surely not.

“No way that’s hers.”

“It is, dearie. She used it for three chapters of Sense and Sensibility, that I know of. Probably more.”

Clara picked the pen up with an odd sort of reverence, holding it gently and turning it over, as though she was looking for some indicator it was genuine. There wasn’t one, of course, but the earnestness in Missy’s voice reminded her of their conversation about the Doctor in that courtyard. There were very few times she seemed to be telling the whole truth, but she had no doubt that this was one of those very rare occasions.

“So.” She said, trying to process whatever this bizarre turn of events was. “I’m supposed to believe you want back in time, stole Jane Austen’s pen, and then tracked me out into the middle of the desert just to be nice?”

There was a slight pause, during which she was hyper-aware of just how close behind her Missy was still standing.

“I’m trying.” They weren’t the words she’d been expecting, but they held that same earnestness from before. “The Doctor is trying to teach me to be _good_. I don’t know how well it’s actually going; I mean I had to break out of jail to come here which isn’t exactly peak good girl behaviour, but-“ She paused for a moment, seemingly caught off guard when Clara turned to face her. “I thought I had something to make up to you. After Skaro.”

The silence after that went on for a few beats too many to be comfortable, broken only by the soft click of the wooden against the counter when Clara set it down. A few seconds later she was leaning up, wrapping her arms around Missy’s shoulders in a tight hug. She was expecting it to be awkward, and the Time Lady did tense for the first few moments, but once she relaxed and hugged her back, it became a shockingly tender moment. She could feel two heartbeats between them, and for a brief moment she felt almost normal again.

“Thank you.” She murmured, voice slightly muffled against the silk of the taller woman’s shirt.

Missy managed a laugh, full of her usual false bravado. “If I’d known all I needed to get into your trousers was an old goose feather…” She murmured, half teasing as she pulled back, dusting off her skirts. “I should be going, anyway. What the Doctor doesn’t know won’t hurt him, but I really should be back before he notices I’m gone.”

She was halfway to the door before Clara spoke again.

“Will you come back?” She wasn’t quite sure where that’d come from. She didn’t want Missy around, did she? The psychopathic Time Lady was hardly her idea of good company but- well. She was certainly exciting to have around, and if she really was trying to be _good…_

“Do you want me to, Clara?” It was the first time since arriving that Missy had actually used her name. Something about the way it rolled off her tongue was intoxicating.

“Maybe.”

“Maybe, then.” Missy’s lips quirked up into a more genuine smile- the types that had usually been reserved for the Doctor, or a particularly devious plan gone right. “But where would the fun be in letting you know for sure?”

She walked out of the doors without another word, umbrella in hand, all swagger and show, and Clara was left holding an old goose feather in a wooden box. A little smile played across her lips as she looked at it. She didn’t need confirmation- she already knew Missy would be back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is from Something There from Beauty and the Beast
> 
> New, and a bit alarming  
> Who’d have ever thought that this could be?  
> True that he’s no Prince Charming,  
> But there’s something in him that I simply didn’t see.
> 
> Full playlist of chapter titles can be found here: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5CUnm7fntJlE2mlfQv4jvJ?si=8_tTLDsDRYyC2t9tyOUPDA


	5. Thrissy: Take Me Back in Time to Love You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thirteen runs into a figure from her past while trying to remember her home.

**Day Five**  
**Prompt: Orange**  
**Ship: Missy/Thirteen**

  
A sharp knock rang out through the TARDIS interior, and the Doctor’s head snapped up from the console to stare at the door.

She registered two things in quick succession. First, someone was knocking on her front door, when there absolutely not be anyone on this planet. Secondly, those four sharp raps on wood made it clear exactly _who_ was knocking on her door, and it was someone she very much did not want to see right now.

Her hands tightened on the edge of the console until she was gripping it so tightly that her knuckles turned white, and she just waited. Another set of four knocks, and she didn’t respond, hoping that if she ignored him long enough he’d leave her alone- let her live in peace at least for a little while. She might not have been able to escape him entirely, she never could, but at least he could let her have her TARDIS as her refuge from _him_.

Another four knocks. She took a breath.

“Go away. I’m not letting you in.”

“Oh I don’t recognise that voice! Which of his pets are you?” The unmistakable Scottish drawl took the Doctor completely by surprise, her eyes jumping back to the doorway with something akin to horror burning behind them. She opened her mouth to respond, but she didn’t know what to say. “I’m looking for the Doctor, Poppet. Be a dear and open the door up for me. I’m his friend, and I’m sure he’ll be really cross with you if you leave me out here.”

“ _Missy_.” It was about all she could manage to say, because _how_ was she here? Missy should be long dead, regenerated into the lunatic that the Doctor was trying so hard to outrun, and she knew it was possible but this? This was downright _dangerous_. 

“Oh so we have met then. Which one are you? You’re not Clara.”

The Doctor gritted her teeth at that one. She took a few steps closer to the door, finally relinquishing her grip on the console, and ignoring the warning hum the TARDIS offered in response to her actions. Admittedly, this wasn’t the smartest thing she’d ever done, but she’d never been able to keep a rational head when it came to her oldest friend.

“Missy it’s _me_. ”

“ _Oh_ , my dear Doctor.” She could practically hear the wolfish grin in her voice. “Welcome to the sisterhood. Let me in, I simply must see this.”

“You’re way too late in my timeline, Missy. You shouldn’t ever see this face.”

Even as she argued, she had been edging closer to the door. She’d be letting Missy in, even if she knew that it was an awful idea.

“As if I care about that, Doctor. Let me in.”

There was a moment of silence, where the Doctor allowed herself a single breath to try and calm down, before leaning over and pulling the door open.

It was surreal, seeing her again after all this time. She was grateful to find she was still taller, even if she didn’t tower over her friend like she so often had, she hadn’t been keen on the way that the Master had smirked down at her the last time they’d met. At least here they were on a slightly more even footing. The Doctor had trouble placing where she was in her timeline. Prior to the vault, if her outfit was anything to go by- she was still all perfect hair and classic Victoriana. After a certain amount of time with just each other (and Nardole, but he hardly counted) for company both of them had learned to ease up on their dress a little- there didn’t seem as much point playing the magician and the governess as flawlessly any more when the drama wasn’t a factor.

“Oh _Doctor_.” Missy moved uncomfortably close very quickly, looking the Doctor straight in the eyes with a wicked grin. “Oh I like it! You’re all young again- and Northern. It’s certainly an improvement from eyebrows.”

“You seemed to like eyebrows well enough.” The Doctor muttered, though she kept her voice low- if this Missy was was early as she thought she had to be careful.

 _Spoilers_.

“What was that dear?” Sharp as ever, Missy had turned from where she’d been inspecting the new TARDIS console (which she was thankfully still locked out of) to face her, eyebrows raised at her comment.

“What are you doing here?”

“Well, the same thing as you, Theta.”

The Doctor flinched at that, and for a brief moment, Missy’s brow furrowed, as though with genuine concern. Not for the first time she was reminded just why she’d trusted this face so much to begin with; there were moments, if only fleeting ones, where she seemed like Koschei again, under all those layers of Master.

“Oh I’ve done something haven’t I? In your timeline.” Missy moved closer again, circling her like a shark ready to strike. When she moved just a little too close, the Doctor quickly backed away, earning her a too-harsh laugh. “Oh I have really gotten under your skin.”

She gritted her teeth, shaking her head. “Don’t go prying into your future, Missy- and you didn’t answer my question.”

“Yes I did.” Missy said, rolling her eyes. “I’m here for the same reason you are. Rocky planet, iron-rich surface, binary star system with a red giant and a red dwarf. The atmosphere here even distorts light right to give it the orange sky. A mini Gallifrey without having to deal with all the pesky Gallifreyans.”

“The gravity is off and there aren’t any plants.” The Doctor remarked, sounding vaguely flat. Missy might have come here for the same reason as her- neither of them were particularly welcome on Gallifrey, so this was as close to nostalgia as they could realistically get without risking arrest- but really she had no idea what she’d done. What she _would do_.

_Gallifrey without the Gallifreyans._

“It’s close enough. And there’s going to be a freak meteor shower in an hour or so, it should be pretty.”

The Doctor’s head snapped up at that, and she eyed Missy suspiciously. “What did you do?” 

“You don’t want to know, dear.”

She took a breath, looking Missy over and then let go, because no, she really didn’t. It was selfish, but with how things had been going for her recently, trying to pretend that things were normal, and her best friend wasn’t a total psychopath intent on tearing the Universe apart seemed like the preferable option.

She wasn’t particularly expecting Missy to grab her hand, but somehow it didn’t make her flinch back in the way everything else had, even if it did remind her a little too much of the last time she’d seen her, back on that ship.

“Come on, Doctor. You can be grumpy with future me but whatever she did I haven’t done it yet. Come watch the pretty lights with me- just for a few hours, and then you can go back to hating future-me, and I can go back to harassing eyebrows.”

She thought about saying no, she really did. After everything the Master had done to her recently she was right on the brink, but this was Missy, and she’d always been a little too soft on her for her own good.

“Just a few hours. Any longer and we could make a real mess of the timelines.”

The smile that earned her was almost enough to put her suspicions to rest.

Missy had obviously taken the time to get set up before strolling across to the Doctor’s TARDIS. Her own was sitting nearby, baring the familiar shape of one of Gallifrey’s large, silver-leafed trees. In an odd sort of way, it did make this place feel more like home, even if it was easy enough to see how artificial it was. There was a blanket stretched out on the red sand in the no-man’s-land between the two spacecraft, with two antique-looking crystal glasses, and a bottle of ginger wine sitting to one side.

“You’re planning on trying to get me drunk?”

Missy scoffed. “I was planning on getting _me_ drunk, Theta dear. The other glass if there because I’m polite.”

The hum that the Doctor let out let her know she didn’t believe that dubious claim for a moment, but she still didn’t put much effort into resisting as she was pulled towards the blanket.

As much as she hated to admit it, Missy had been right about the meteors. If you didn’t think too hard about what she must have done to achieve the effect, they really were beautiful. Soon enough they were both on the giggly side of tipsy, which certainly helped with the whole not thinking about it thing, and though she wasn’t sure how it’d happened, at some point the Doctor had wound up laying with her head in Missy’s lap, letting slender fingers comb gently through her short hair.

It wasn’t quite right. The gravity was too weak, and that odd metallic tang of home wasn’t there, but for those few hours under the burnt orange sky, watching the suns go down and Missy’s lightshow start, she could wrap herself up in a familiar set of arms and let herself be transported home by the slight spice of Missy’s perfume.

“We should go soon.” The Doctor eventually murmured, pushing herself into a sitting position, though she made no attempt to move away from Missy’s side. “Timelines and all that.”

The brunette let out a dismissive hum, brushing the backs of her fingers gently against the Doctor’s cheek.

“Theta, dear. Shut up and kiss me.”

“Where are we going, Theta?”

“You’ll see in a minute!”

“Or you could tell me now before I have to- Oh for…” Koschei was left grumbling in the dust as Theta took off running up a scarlet hillside, clearly already having a destination in mind. “I should just leave you here.” He warned, before immediately taking off after the blonde anyway.

Theta being taller and having a head start, was already sat down at the top of the hill, laid back on a blanket which he must have set up in advance, with a picnic of whatever-he-could-find set up in front of him. He was grinning at Koschei, and it was infectious enough that the brunette actually had to work to look grumpy about it.

“You’re going to wind up in so much trouble if anyone works out you took this stuff.” He sat down next to Theta, who almost immediately edged closer. “And we have class tomorrow.”

“So I’ll steal Ushas’ notes.”

“She’d kill you before you got the chance.”

Theta laughed at that, rolling his eyes. “I want to watch the stars.”

“I want to get back before we wind up in _more_ trouble!”

“Koschei?” Theta waited for that little hum of acknowledgment, before leaning in closer, the setting suns turning his hair to copper. “Shut up and kiss me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is from Take Me Back from Black Friday 
> 
> The universe is infinite,  
> And it’s definite  
> There’s an alternate reality  
> Where it’s only you and me.
> 
> Take me back in time to love you  
> Hold me closer than before  
> Heal my heart and mend what’s broken  
> To feel you once more
> 
> Full playlist of chapter titles can be found here: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5CUnm7fntJlE2mlfQv4jvJ?si=8_tTLDsDRYyC2t9tyOUPDA


	6. Space Wives: To See You Smiling at Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thea's facination with humans has always gotten her into trouble, but when she finds a certain pirate in need of rescue, how can she refuse?

**Day Six**  
**Theme: Mermaid AU**  
**Ship: Thirteen/River Song**

Strictly speaking, Thea shouldn’t have been anywhere near the surface. In fact, she’d been given very specific orders not to go anywhere near the surface, and was still technically in the middle of her last punishment for breaking those orders. Naturally, then, that’s exactly where she was.

It was entirely by chance she’d found the human. There was no sign of a shipwreck, and they were a hundred of miles from land- whatever had happened to strand the poor girl she must have drifted a good way away. She was captivating. Thea had gotten too close to ships before, so she’d certainly seen humans closer than most of her kind, but this was something new. Still, she didn’t have much time to revel in her closer look- the woman was barely conscious, clinging to a scrap of driftwood, and she certainly couldn’t last much longer without help.

It was a stupid decision, really- the amount of trouble even interacting with a human could get her into didn’t bare thinking about, but Thea had already made up her mind, wrapping an arm around the woman’s waist and helping her free from the makeshift raft as gently as she could. The waves must have thrown her around pretty badly, if the blood on her clothes was anything to go by.

“It’s okay. You’re okay. I’ve got you.” Looking around and seeing nothing but ocean and horizon, Thea bit her lip. It wasn’t as though she could take the girl home- they’d kill her, and Thea would be grounded for _years_ for a stunt like this. “Let’s just- find somewhere safe. For now.”

She hadn’t known where to bring the human. Thea might have been strong, but she was nowhere near strong enough to drag the exhausted woman back to the shore- she couldn’t have even reached it without the dead weight- not in one go. In the end she’d gone with an imperfect solution, at least for the time being. The cave system was hardly safe, but she knew that if she could keep the woman breathing long enough the end had an area open to the air with a rocky shelf that would be big enough for her to lie on. She’d been leaving her half-finished projects (read, whatever human-junk she could scavenge) here for a long time when they seemed likely to get her into more trouble, so she knew the system well, even if she wasn’t allowed to go inside anymore.

She could make an exception this time.

She did her best for the human, but there was only so much she _could_ do immediately. She bandaged her wounds with sail-scraps, left some fish, and an upturned basin to catch rainwater, and did her best to make a bed out of discarded fishing nets she’d been collecting, but it was rudimentary at best.

The human really was beautiful, once she got the chance to actually look at her. It was odd, how similar they looked to merfolk. Their eyes were a little smaller, their features less pointed, and their teeth were nowhere near as sharp, but the basics were the same. This one in particular had a mess of blonde curls which clung to her face with the seawater. Thea found she rather liked them- they were exciting, just like the human they belonged to. She couldn’t wait to see what they’d look like once they dried out.

She waited there for what had to have been hours, based on the movement of the sun above them, until the human finally began to stir again, and she suddenly backed away, sinking below the still waters of the cave.

It took another few minutes for the woman to actually wake after that, and when she finally did so she did it with a groan which almost made the mermaid giggle.

Her eyes were even more interesting once they were open, tiny circles of blue in a sea of white- nothing at all like large glassy orbs merfolk had. Still, they were beautiful- sharp and intelligent, and right now, betraying her new friend’s total confusion.

“Where on earth-“ The human looked around at the walls, and Thea watched as panic spread across her pretty features. She reached for the odd silvery contraption at her waist, checking it, and then muttering, “Damn powder’s wet.” in a decidedly disgruntled manor, before discarding whatever it was and pulling out a sharp-looking blade instead.

Thea let out a little sound at the sight of the blade, disappearing further below the waves until only her large, green eyes were visible above the surface. Unfortunately for her the movement seemed to have caught the woman’s eye, as she whirled to look directly at her.

“Show yourself.”

Thea shifted slightly, sending a ripple across the surface of the pool, before obliging, lifting her whole head above the water again. She was far enough out that she doubted the human could see her through the gloom. Her father had always told her that humans had terrible eyesight.

“Who are you? Why have you brought me here?”

“I don’t want to hurt you.” Thea held her hands up just above the surface, trying to show she wasn’t armed. She couldn’t do much about the way her wickedly sharp teeth glinted in the sunlight, except hope she was too far away for that to be noticed.

“Who are you?” The woman asked again, still holding the dagger. She looked very much like someone trying to pretend they weren’t frightened, and yet the bravado seemed to suit her.

“Thea.”

“Thea what?”

That threw her for a moment. She knew humans had more than one name, and that she was certainly safer if she played human, at least for a while, but she also didn’t know much about what kind of name would be considered normal.

“Thea…” She tried to think back to snippets of soldiers conversations she’d heard. “Thea Smith.”

“Where am I? Why have you brought me here?”

“I found you. You were adrift. I didn’t know where else to take you.”

The woman blinked at that, seeming surprised. She lowered the dagger just a fraction of an inch, still clearly distrustful. “What of my ship? My crew?”

She felt a slight pang. Should she have gone back to make sure there were no others? The idea that there might have been more than one nearby hadn’t even really occurred to her. Still even if she had found more, what would she have done? Rescuing even one had been such a risk she wasn’t sure she’d have gotten back here with two, even if more had survived.

“I didn’t see a ship. There was no one else. Sorry.”

That seemed to shake the human a little, but she didn’t take her eyes off of Thea. “You’re not about to arrest me?” She eventually asked.

“I’m-“ Thea frowned, trying to think if she’d done something to give off that impression. “No? I mean, I don’t think so. Why would I do that?”

“Oh no reason at all.” The woman lowered her weapon, though she didn’t sheathe it yet. “Well then. I’m River Song, captain of the Stormcage, and it seems I owe you my life, Miss Smith.”

Thea moved a little closer, offering a smile. “You were a bit beat up when I found you. I did my best.”

The human- River- looked a little startled at that, glancing down at herself, looking for the makeshift dressings Thea had applied. “Oh. You’re quite the little doctor aren’t you? Why are you staying back there? What are you hiding?” After a few beats of silence, with River scrutinising her across the cave and Thea remaining resolutely silent, she added, “You seem like you’ve put plenty of work into bandaging me up, I’m sure you don’t want me ruining it by wading out to get a better look.”

That was more than enough to panic Thea. She stared at River for another few seconds, before turning tail and swimming, back down into the network of caves leading into the ocean. For the briefest moment her sapphire-blue tail broke the surface of the water as she propelled herself downwards, but she wasn’t there to see the look of astonishment on her pretty human’s face.

It took Thea a long time to calm down. It was hard to say exactly how long, but judging by the fading light overhead, hours. A part of her wanted to run home and pretend none of this had ever happened, that the human had never existed, but- well. If she did that she’d just condemned River to a slow death in that cave rather than a quick one in the ocean. No human could make it through those caves alone, and certainly not one who was injured- she’d drown trying to get out, or starve waiting for rescue. No, scared as Thea was of being discovered, leaving her there would just be cruel.

When she arrived back in the cave, she didn’t bother keeping her distance, breaking the surface of the water closer to the rock ledge, now. It was dark, and she doubted the human would be able to see much- if she hadn’t worked it out already.

“You’re back, then.” River was sitting on the pile of discarded fishing nets, watching her with a remarkable level of calm. She certainly seemed to have made the best of being left alone, unpicking sections of the nets and using them to hang bits of driftwood to dry, along with the outer layers of her clothing.

“Sorry I left without explainin’.” Thea sounded sheepish, flicking her tail nervously below the water’s surface. She must have in the shallows now, given how it brushed against the sand.

“So were you going to tell me you’re not human?” River was watching her intently, probably looking for a reaction.

Thea did her best not to give one, though despite her best efforts, she still looked a little surprised. She’d not expected such a calm reaction.

“How’d you know?” She pushed herself up out of the water a little more.

“I’m clever.” River was fiddling with that silver-y object she’d gone for earlier again. “Well, that and you have a tail. I suppose this means mother wasn’t lying after all. She always said she met a merman when she was a little girl. I don’t think anybody ever really believed her.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

“Well, I don’t think I can get out of here without your help, so I sort of have to be.” River moved towards the edge of the ledge, sitting down with her feet hanging into the water. “If you were going to eat me I doubt you’d have bandaged me up.”

“We don’t eat humans!” Thea insisted quickly, swimming a little closer to the edge. It wasn’t entirely true, she could certainly think of a few people who probably would eat human, if given the chance- but she certainly wouldn’t. “I don’t eat humans. I like humans.”

River laughed at that. “Right. Of course you do. I suppose that makes me pretty lucky, then.”

Thea didn’t respond, but realistically she knew River was true. Even the merfolk who wouldn’t have actively attacked her would probably have left her to drown. Interfering with humans was never exactly considered normal behaviour for her species.

“You’re a talkative one.” She remarked dryly. “How about you tell me how I can get out of here.”

“You’re too far from land. You wouldn’t stand a chance. You’ll have to stay here, and I’ll swim you back out next time a ship comes by.”

River pulled a face. “Well, depends on the ship.” When Thea gave her a quizzical look, she just shrugged. “I don’t have the best relationship with most shipping companies.” She paused for a second, “Or countries, come to think of it. There are a lot of people who’d like to see me hang.”

“What for?”

River smirked at that. “Piracy.”

Thea looked ready to ask more questions, but River shook her head.

“It really doesn’t matter. Now, if we’re going to be stuck together, I’d like to know you better.”

Thea went back every day after that, more eager to see River with each day that passed. Two ships had passed close enough so far, but they’d both been turned down by her new friend. Secretly, she was rather glad.

They’d fallen into a rather comfortable routine now. Thea would bring food, and whatever driftwood she could find to keep a fire burning, and the human would teach her about what the various human junk she’d collected actually did. It was, for the most part, useless, but it was still interesting to know what it was made for before she wound up taking it to pieces. Thea enjoyed the escape from society outside of the cave, and she already knew that, given the chance, she’d have spent every minute in there listening to River’s stories and offering her own in return.

It was during one of these intense story exchanges that River kissed her for the first time. They’d been sat side-by-side in the shallows, and she had been excitedly explaining some mermaid legend about a sting-ray as big as a whale when all of a sudden one of River’s hands had found her hip, tracing gentle patterns into the scales there. For a moment she’d taken it as the human just wanting to know what her scales felt like; It was a bold move, certainly, but she was hardly complaining. It felt nice, and she liked that their fascination with one another was mutual. The kiss had seemed to come out of nowhere- one minute they were just talking, and the next River was pressing their lips together.

Thea froze at the contact, and to her credit, the pirate pulled back very quickly when she realised. If she didn’t know better, Thea might have thought she was blushing.

“I’m sorry, that was- impulsive. I shouldn’t have.”

“What-“ Thea blinked a few times, trying to process what had happened. “What was that?”

“It was just-“ River shrugged, looking as though she was trying to shrug it off, as though it was a far bigger deal than she was letting on. “It was just a kiss. It’s something we- that is, humans- do when we like each other.”

“Oh.” Thea watched her for a moment, before she broke into a grin. “Can we try it again?”

For a second River looked shocked, though she recovered her composure quickly, shooting her one of those cocky grins that made her stomach do flips. She pulled Thea in closer by her waist, so she was as good as sitting in her lap, seemingly unbothered by the tail. “Pretty thing like you? How’s a girl supposed to resist that?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the anti-climactic ending, but if I'd kept going to the point I wanted to this chapter would have been ten thousand words long, and it's already twice the length of most (not to mention that it's late again...). I'm definately going to be revisiting Thea and Captain Song at some point this month, though!
> 
> Chapter title is from Part of Your World (Reprise) from The Little Mermaid
> 
> What would I pay to stay here beside you?  
> What would I do to see you smiling at me?  
> Where would we walk?  
> Where would we run?  
> If we could stay all day in the sun?  
> Just you and me,  
> And I could be part of your world.
> 
> Full playlist of chapter titles can be found here: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5CUnm7fntJlE2mlfQv4jvJ?si=8_tTLDsDRYyC2t9tyOUPDA


	7. Soufflaker: I Was in the Seventh Heaven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The TARDIS goes a little haywire and decides to drop the Doctor off somewhere she really, really shouldn’t be.

**Day Seven**  
Theme: Lips  
Ship: Thirteen/Clara Oswald

“I’m sorry about the whole exploding in ya thing,” The Doctor felt her new friends looking at her concerned at that one, but she ignored it, continuing to whisper to her ship. “I know you’re still repairing, but d’ya think we can make the right decade this time, Old Girl? Team effort?”

The Doctor placed a hand tentatively on the TARDIS console, as though hoping that flattery would make her a little more reliable.

“Got a lot of faith in her then, Doc?” Graham asked, shooting her a worried look which was mirrored in her other accidental passengers. Judging by the unhappy whirring noise that escaped the console, he’d managed to undo any good favour she’d won.

“Course I do, Graham! She’s healin’ still, that’s all.”

“You talk about it like i’s alive or somethin’.” Ryan remarked, watching her skip around the controls to try and land them home again.

“I mean t’ be fair I’ve seen a lot of blokes talk about their cars like that.” Yaz cut in. It was their turn for a scolding look from the Doctor.

“Oi! Be nice to her you three. Y’ll ‘urt ‘er feelin’s.” She patted the console reassuringly, trying to make sure that the TARDIS wasn’t about to throw a tantrum and throw them even further away from their goal. Earth was a start. She gestured for them to hold onto something, just in case, and then threw the lever. The landing was remarkably smooth, and when the Doctor got a look at the monitor, her face broke out into a grin.

“Earth, England, 2016! We’re getting really close!”

The other three looked less impressed about the three year disparity, but seemed relieved that they at least weren’t anywhere expressly hostile this time. The Doctor was halfway to the TARDIS doors when someone knocked on them- and not particularly politely either.

“You better have a really good excuse this time, Doctor. How many times have I told you not while I’m at work? What’s the point of setting a day if you’re just going to turn up whenever you feel like?”

The Doctor blanched at that voice, giving the console a wounded look, and only serving to confuse her new friends further.

“Friend of yours?” Ryan raised an eyebrow, but she didn’t react, staring at the doors as though she’d seen a ghost. Really, she as good as had.

“I said sorry!” She huffed, scrambling for the controls. The TARDIS, of course, had something else in mind, given the way the doors fell open behind them before she could reach, revealing a petite brunette in full cross teacher mode, arms crossed over her chest. She stormed straight past the Doctor, though once she was half-way to the console she seemed to register something was off.

The Doctor didn’t protest, standing stock still in between the doors and the console, trying to think what to do next. The TARDIS seemed to be trying to punish her, but with Clara? That was just cruel.

“He’s redecorated, Doubt he likes it. Seems a bit too sunshine for him.” Clara glanced at Yaz. “Where is he?”

Yaz blinked at the stranger, glancing at the Doctor for support, though when she didn’t get any sign of life out of her she turned back. “Er. Where’s who? Who’re you?”

“I’m Clara, I’m his friend-“ She waited a moment to see if she was going to get any more of a response, though when she didn’t she went back to looking around the room.

“Is she allowed to be here, Doc?” Graham asked, and this time the Doctor managed to summon the presence of mind to actually look over at him, though she didn’t respond.

“Doctor?” Clara made a beeline for the door out of the console room, but it was slammed shut before she could reach it. She shot the console the same look the Doctor had given it earlier. “Oh come on, I thought me and you were past this now?” When the door didn’t open, she rolled her eyes, moving back into the console room. “You’re friends of the Doctor’s right? Where is he? I can’t hang around waiting for him all day I’ve got a class to teach in ten minutes.”

“You’re looking for the Doctor?” Ryan asked, sounding just as baffled as the rest of the humans looked.

“Yeah! Come on, you’re in here so you must know him. Tall, grumpy, entirely too Scottish for his own good? Owl eyebrows?”

“ _Owl eyebrows_?” The Doctor sputtered, finally snapping out of whatever panic had taken over her at seeing her old friend again.

Clara didn’t acknowledge her comment, still focusing on the one’s who’d actually spoken to her thus far. “Where is he? He’s alright, right?” she asked, and The Doctor felt her hearts ache slightly at that. Clara had always worried about her more than she deserved.

“Doc?” Graham looked between the two women, clearly confused.

Clara glanced back towards the blonde, her eyes widening slightly. She crossed the console room quickly until she was standing in front of her.

“Doctor?”

“Clara.”

“What happened?” Any hint of annoyance in her face was gone now as she moved closer, looking her over for injuries that would have long since healed. “I mean, how did you-“

“Spoilers.” The word sent another pang through her, but it was quickly dispelled as she looked down (though significantly less than she was used to) at Clara- warm and alive Clara, beating heart and all. She really had missed her. It didn’t particularly help that she’d moved _so_ close in her excitement, and the fact they were much closer in height now made it tricky to avoid looking at those eyes, and the way that she’d bit her lip excitedly and- No. No the Doctor wasn’t going down that road. Not again.

The brunette looked her up and down, smiling. “Well, I like it. Bit less magician than before. Suits you, though. Lovin’ the t-shirt.”

The Doctor didn’t get a chance to respond before she was being dragged into a hug, just like she had a million times before. She still wasn’t much of a hugger in this body- not like Chinny had been- but she relaxed into it a lot quicker than she had as eyebrows, wrapping her arms around Clara and melting into the familiar warmth and the warm scent of a perfume she knew far too well.

“I shouldn’t really be here.” She admitted, though amusingly her new hight meant her voice was slightly muffled against Clara’s shoulder. “Remember when I was Bowtie? An’ we ran into Sandshoes and Grandad and I told you how dangerous crossing me own timestream could be?”

“…Yeah?”

“Well. That. The TARDIS needs some repairs, she’s having a hard trouble landing us in the right spot and I’m a little too early.”

“So I’m stuck with Eyebrows for now?” Clara teased as she pulled back from the hug and the Doctor had never been more glad that she was as clever as she was- it made it far easier to explain.

Pausing for a brief moment, she took Clara’s hand, being uncharacteristically gentle about it. “Where was the last place He- I took ya?” She asked, a little worried about the kind of answer she’d get.

“It was my birthday. You took me to meet the Bloomsbury Set and… why are you giving me that look?”

“An’ you ‘aven’t heard from ‘im since then?” She asked, though she didn’t need to wait for a response. “I’m really sorry, the next time is going to be ‘ard. He’s gonna need ya, but I promise you’re both gonna come out safe. Just, keep an eye on the planes, yeah? I can’t tell you why, but I promise that’ll ‘elp.”

“Right.” Clara gave her a nod. “Planes. Okay. Good to know.” She shifted a little bit closer, and once again had to fight to keep her mind from wondering. It’d been a _long_ time since she’d gotten to visit _her_ Clara. “Oh and Doctor?”

“Hmm?”

“How long is it going to be before I get to meet this body?” She had that mischievous little glint in her eyes that the Doctor had always loved, the one that just _screamed_ ‘trouble imminent’.

“For you? A good while yet.”

“Well then…”

She hooked two fingers around the blonde’s braces, pulling her in a little too quickly and kissing her with an urgency that made the Doctor’s heart beats pick up, her hands flailing for a moment before finding the brunette’s waist. It was certainly a lot more than she’d intended, especially when they _had an audience,_ but the Doctor wasn’t used to this new body and Clara new exactly what she was doing and her lips were soft and and she’d pressed against her in a way that made her mind short circuit, and all of it came to an end entirely too abruptly when Clara pulled back, smirking.

The Doctor gave her an affronted look, but Clara just shrugged. “I have a class to teach, Time Girl. Tell your version of Clara you’re welcome from me.” and just like that she was walking out the door, leaving a flustered Doctor to awkwardly deal with her new friends.

Ryan offered her a smirk and looked like he was about to say something, but she raised a hand, shaking her head. “Not a word.” She took another moment to catch her breath, before striding over towards the console, looking a little more confident than before. “Let’s just- who wants lunch before we try again? I know a great diner a few years from now. Best milkshakes in this galaxy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is from When I Kissed the Teacher from Mamma Mia Here We Go Again (I'm trying to use all stage shows but I couldn't resist)
> 
> As I held my breath  
> The world stood still but then she just smiled  
> I was in the seventh heaven  
> When I kissed the teacher
> 
> Full playlist of chapter titles can be found here: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5CUnm7fntJlE2mlfQv4jvJ?si=8_tTLDsDRYyC2t9tyOUPDA


	8. Lumiteen: Because It's Written in the Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on that soulmate AU trope where people are born seeing in black and white until they meet their soulmate. Time Lords are born only being able to see one colour, and then gain a new one every time they meet a new incarnation of their soulmate.
> 
> Every time the Doctor meets a new Master, she gets a new colour. This woman is no Master, so how has she given the Doctor something so bright?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is literally one other fic for this pairing on the site, so I made up the ship name entirely. Honestly I'm not super sure about it, and this isn't crazy romantic but I liked the concept of this as a story.

**Day Eight**  
**Theme: Yellow**  
**Ship: Thirteen/The Lumiat**

The Doctor was born with blue, and deep down, it would always be her favourite colour. Most Time Lords would say their first gift was their favourite- the first thing their soulmate ever gave them- but with a soulmate like the Master each new spark came tinged with bad memories. Blue was entirely her own, and she loved it for that.

In some way, the Doctor had always been very lucky. Most of her kind had to wait decades, even centuries before they started to see new colours, but she’d gotten their her at eight years old. It’d all been a little anti-climactic, really. She’d been ushered into a room with the rest of the initiates, their fingers had brushed against one another in the nervous crowd, and something around them began to shift. It took a few minutes before either of them had noticed something rich and bright developing in the monochrome around them, but when they’d finally realised what was happening they’d gotten more than excited enough to get them into trouble.

The first day they’d met, Koschei had given the Doctor the red of the fields they’d run through, and of the blood they’d both spend the rest of their lives spilling.

It continued like that, through all their lives, though the Doctor found that it was far less romantic than the legends claimed. In theory, once you found that special person, every lifetime you lived together the world would get brighter around you, and you could share in the colour. When the one lighting up your world was the Master, however, the darkness in them was always sure to overshadow things.

It had been a long time since she’d seen any new colours, and the Doctor was beginning to think perhaps she’d finally run out of new ones to collect. Missy’s kiss had unlocked purple for her. The colour of queens and of death seemed fitting for her, and she was sure she would always have a soft spot for it, but over a century had passed since then without any scrap of new colour, and with no news of the Master in as long, she was beginning to lose hope.

And then she’d run into her.

Running around the backstreets of Xlayxon-7 was hardly where she expected to find anyone she considered particularly _good_. It was the seedy underbelly of the whole star system, and the base for a particularly nasty criminal enterprise which she was in the process of attempting to shut down, not the kind of place where you tended to find innocents- at least not ones who were there of their own volition. What she certainly wasn’t expecting was to walk into the back room of a particularly disgusting club and find their leader pinned underneath some kind of cybernetic cheetah, getting a lecture from a remarkably calm looking woman in a white blouse.

“Now darling, I think it’s time you began letting those prisoners go, okay? And then I’ll give you…” She trailed off with a thoughtful hum, giving off the air of a schoolteacher attempting to make a punishment seem fairer. “Does three days sound like enough to get your operations here closed down?”

The woman wasn’t what the Doctor would have called intimidating (but then neither was she), standing over the man in a neat white blouse and a pair of grey trousers, another of the silver cats curled up at her feet. She had her arms crossed over his chest, and a look of almost motherly disapproval etched across her face- the Doctor was half expecting her to end her speech telling the crime lord that she wasn’t angry, she was just disappointed.

“And of course you’re going to call off whichever of your little friends you have sneaking up on me, aren’t you?” The woman added, without actually turning to look behind her.

The Doctor flinched slightly. So whoever she was she was perceptive. The pinned man turned to face her, wide-eyed and hopeful, though his face fell again when he saw she wasn’t one of his goons.

“I’m not with him.” She said, taking a few strides towards the centre of the room. Luckily she was very good at acting more confident than she felt. A couple of henchmen brushed past her as she made her way towards the centre of the room, the glassy look in her eye making the hypnosis used on them obvious.

“Ah, Doctor!” The woman’s face brightened almost immediately when she saw her, offering a wide, bright smile as though they weren’t on one of the most dangerous parts of an already dangerous planet.

Well being recognised like that was certainly a surprise. She narrowed her eyes, looking at the brunette apprehensively, trying to find something hidden behind that warm smile being offered, but finding nothing. She seemed genuine.

“I’m sorry, have we met?”

Whatever was going on in the stranger’s head, she paused for a moment, before shaking her head, as though unsure. “Not really. But I am a huge fan of your work.”

The Doctor wasn’t particularly sure how to respond to that. Luckily, she was spared the need to when the cyber-cat at the woman’s feet made a hissing sound, drawing both of their attention back to the man his partner was holding trying to reach for his gun.

Before she could even move, the other woman had crouched down in front of him. She let out a little tsk sound, again giving him that look of matronly disapproval, before taking the gun away from him.

“Now, since you can’t behave I’m going to have to confiscate this. and,” She leant a little closer, “I’m afraid you’re going to have to do as I say now.”

By the time the Doctor noticed what she was doing his eyes had already taken on the same glazed look as his workers, and the cyber-cat was easing off of him. He wouldn’t try to run off anymore.

“You hypnotised him.” It was a statement, but the Doctor’s voice oozed disapproval anyway.

“I tried to give him a chance, but at least this way he isn’t going to hurt anybody else.”

“Who’re you to just hypnotise people and make them do what you say? How is that any better than-“

Her breath caught in her throat before she could build up any more steam. The stranger had walked straight up to her, taking both of her hands, and looking down at her with kind, eerily familiar blue eyes. The blonde tried to ignore the way her hearts picked up at the simple gesture, but it was difficult when they seemed determined on escaping her ribcage.

“My dear Doctor, I promise you we want the same thing here. If you want me to release him, I will, though I’d ask you let me have his prisoners freed first.”

“Who are you?”

“Call me the Lumiat- and, thank you, Doctor. Thank you so much.” 

There wasn’t much that was bright on Xlayxon-7. Maybe that was why it took her so long to realise. She’d concluded her dealings with the Lumiat, and made it almost all the way back to her TARDIS before she thought on what she’d called her.

_My dear Doctor._

She’d known another person, very close to her hearts who used to call her that.

When she stepped into her TARDIS and found it washed in golden light, the columns she’d previously thought grey giving of a reassuring yellow glow, she finally made the connection.

She knew just who the mysterious Lumiat was, she knew now why her hearts had picked up so traitorously at having her close, and she knew why the Lumiat had thanked her the first time their hands had touched.

One more lifetime.

One more colour.

One more Master out there for her to find.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is from We See the Light from Something Rotten.
> 
> I'm tired of listening to the same sad story,  
> How lovers fail because it's written in the stars.  
> The fueding family plot is starting to bore me,  
> I'm thinking we can show them that's not who we are. 
> 
> Full playlist of chapter titles can be found here: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5CUnm7fntJlE2mlfQv4jvJ?si=8_tTLDsDRYyC2t9tyOUPDA


	9. Thrissy: Just a Monster in a Cage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After her stint in prison the Doctor decides to go back and apologise to someone she put through the same thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this wasn't actually the first thing I wrote for this catagory- I got three thousand words into a Thasmin hurt/comfort fic before I realised that it was a little too much for a Femslash Feb piece. It'll probably go up as a oneshot at some point over the next week if anyone is interested in that kind of thing. Because of that this one is a little rushed, so I apologise if it feels a little too cliche, I just didn't want to end up behind when I've only just caught up.

**Day Nine  
Theme: Shame  
Ship: Thirteen/Missy**

What she was doing was in no way smart, but the Doctor couldn’t really resist. She wasn’t usually one to step back on her own timeline recklessly, but if she’d gotten it right, she should be mostly safe of paradoxes. She’d had a good six month gap to aim for, and even if her track record with landing in the right place wasn’t great this was important enough that she was hoping her TARDIS would work with her.

She’d been out of prison for a month, now, and the weight of imprisonment still pressed down on her any time she couldn’t see the door. As much as she pretended it hadn’t affected her, it really had- she’d been in trouble before; stranded on earth by the Time Lords, or in her confession dial, but she’d never actually been trapped in one room like that. At least on earth she could roam the planet, even if it was a smaller arena than she was used to, and in the confession dial her memories of it had been hazy. In the Jadoon prison all she’d had was days on end of nothing but sitting and watching and waiting for something ( _anything_ ) to happen. She’d even begun to look forwards to the awful prison food, just because at least its arrival was a change from staring at her tally-marked cell walls and counting the days that she’d been in that cell.

She’d known what she had to do for a while now, but it was still difficult to actually make the trip. This was going to be painful, and this version of her was so much worse at communicating than the last one had been.

The TARDIS landed remarkably quietly in the corner of the vault- she’d even turned the breaks off, for once- and she allowed herself a single minute to take a breath before stepping out, glancing across the achingly familiar room to where her oldest friend was watching her.

“He’s sending his pets out to check on me now?” She sounded thoroughly unimpressed, raising her voice just slightly as she looked at the box, as though shouting to someone inside. She offered the Doctor a wolfish grin, and almost immediately began to make her way over. “You’re new. Where _does_ he pick you people up? At least you’re prettier than the egg.”

“Missy-“ The Doctor wasn’t a fan of the way that her voice came out, quieter than she’d intended, and a little strained around the lump in her throat. Just seeing this version of her friend after everything that had happened was more overwhelming than she’d expected.

“Oh so he told you my name then?” Missy was circling her like a shark now, though a moment or so later she glanced back at the box, coming to a stop in front of the Doctor, eyebrow raised. “Or… Oh now this is a surprise.” She dropped into a mock curtsy, “Welcome to the sisterhood, my dear Doctor.”

“Somehow I thought you’d be pleased.” Despite everything, the Doctor smiled, because she really had missed all of Missy’s theatrics in dealing with her older self. While both certainly had a sense of drama, the Master as she’d come to know him tended to be more violent in showing it.

“Oh but I do! All girls together, hmm? Last of the Time Ladies- though I’m assuming you won’t be using that?”

The Doctor shook her head. “It doesn’t suit me much.” She said, glancing at the too-clean floor of the vault. She didn’t add how unsure she was now whether Time Lord suited her anymore either.

She stood there for a moment, trying to think how to broach the subject. leased as she was to see her again, the immediacy with which she’d been greeted didn’t do much to help the guilt already stewing inside of her. Missy had been alone for a long time, not knowing if or when the Doctor would return. It wasn’t as though she’d ever planned to leave Missy alone- at this point in her timeline she was on that prison ship with the Monks, there wasn’t much she could have done- but if she’d been kinder it wouldn’t have been a problem in the first place.

“Why are you giving me that look?” Missy’s shoulder’s slumped slightly, as though the wind had been taken out of her sails. She’d always known the Doctor a little too well- and her being a far superior telepath never helped. “You’re leaving again, aren’t you? You left me alone in here for _four_ _months_ and you’re not even going to stay to chat?”

That one hit her like a fist to the gut, and she almost instinctively found herself moving forward, pulling the shorter woman into a too-tight hug, a soft, shuddering breath escaping against her neat blouse. It seemed to catch Missy off guard given by how she flinched- Eyebrows had taken a long time to get comfortable with Missy touching him again, and evidently they were not yet at that stage.

“I’m sorry, Kos.”

If the hug hadn’t been enough to throw Missy off, that certainly was, judging by the way she stiffened.

“You’re- sorry?” She laughed, and to anybody else it probably would have sounded dismissive, but the Doctor had known her since they were eight years old, and she knew how to tell when her oldest friend was unsure in her words. “Well that’s certainly not like you, Doctor. I suppose I can hardly be too cross with you, if you’ve regenerated I’m guessing you had a good excuse for leaving me here.”

The Doctor swallowed. Best not to address that yet- Missy would work it out for herself whenever she saw Eyebrows again. She tightened the hug slightly, lowering her head slightly against Missy’s shoulder. Her former-self had been right about one thing- a hug was a wonderful way to hide your face.

“I’m sorry for keeping you here. I know- Well neither of us have ever handled being locked up very well.”

It was the hope in Missy’s voice when she next spoke that really killed her. “So this is done? You’re going to let me go?”

“I- I can’t.”  
Missy’s shoulders slumped again. “Oh. Yes. I- I understand. Can’t risk me running around out there.” She pulled back rather suddenly, forcing a smile. “And you’ve got to keep your word.”

“I would if I could.” The Doctor said, but that, of course, was another lie. She was always lying- more so than ever these days. She could have let Missy out now, if she’d really wanted, but doing that would cause havoc with the timelines. If she opened the vault now, then Eyebrows would never get any help with the Monks and would probably be looking around for chemicals in the water supply for months on end while people died around him. Tempting as it was to just do it to spare herself the guilt, she couldn’t risk what might happen.

Missy looked at her for a long moment, before recognition crossed her face. “Oh you are a bad girl this time around.” Her tone had regained a lot of it’s usual teasing swagger, and while a hint of disappointment still clung to the words, recognition was just as plain. “You did, didn’t you? Trapsing back over your own timelines because you feel guilty.”

“It’s not-“ How was she supposed to justify this one. “Eyebrows is on a prison ship miles from here. He will be for months- I knew I wasn’t going to run into him, and I just. I had to say it. The next of you isn’t half as easy to talk to.”

“Oh call it what it is, Dearie, you’re running rampant over your timeline just to make yourself less ashamed. Recklessness has always suited you. If I didn’t know you better I’d say you’d gotten sentimental. I’m not supposed to know this you am I?”

“We regenerated around the same time, from what I know.” She didn’t know the details, but from how little she’d heard of Missy after what happened on the Mondasian colony ship she knew that it couldn’t have been long afterwards.

“And Eyebrows is in prison?”

“He will be for another couple of months. Earth’s been invaded again. It’ll be a while before he has everything he needs in place for a breakout.”

Missy nodded at her, glancing for a brief moment at the TARDIS, before making her way to one of the faded armchairs, picking up the book she’d abandoned at the TARDIS landing before sitting down looking expectantly at the Doctor.

“Okay. Well. As long as you’re here.” She gestured at the empty seat beside her. “Stay a while.”

The Doctor didn’t need telling twice, sinking into the spare seat, tipping her head back against the leather and closing her eyes for a moment, relishing the scent of old books and leather and Missy’s perfume from a time where things had seemed so very hopeful.

The shame of what she’d put Koschei through weighed heavy on her hearts, but as a familiar, comfortable silence washed over them she could at least catch a few moments peace, content in the knowledge that for a few hours she could at least be the distraction that Missy needed to stop her staring at the clock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title comes from Monster from Frozen.
> 
> A monster. Were they right?  
> Has the dark in me finally come to light?  
> Am I a monster full of rage?  
> Nowhere to go, but on a rampage.  
> Or am I just a monster in a cage?
> 
> Chapter title playlist can be found here: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5CUnm7fntJlE2mlfQv4jvJ?si=8_tTLDsDRYyC2t9tyOUPDA


	10. Thasmin: The Mother That Never Was

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Why do you have a cot in here?"  
> "That's a long story." 
> 
> The Doctor starts to open up to Yasmin a little more about her past and the family that she lost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for discussions of grief/morning. The Doctor talks about losing her family. Jenny's death is also mentioned explicitly, as well as other canon character death's being alluded to. Nothing particularly detailed but it's there.

**Day Ten**  
Theme: Daisy  
Ship: Thirteen/Yasmin Khan

When you were as old as the Doctor was, you began to accumulate an awful lot of _things_. Of course, the dimensional engineering made that an easy enough problem to deal with most of the time; it doesn’t matter that you have fourteen lifetimes worth of (admittedly questionable) clothing when you have a functionally infinite wardrobe. No, where it actually became tricky, was when you were looking for something specific and you had to dig through all that infinite storage looking for it.

“So what are we actually lookin’ for, again?”

The Doctor had dragged Yaz through store rooms, looking for a spare part she’d stashed somewhere a few centuries ago- hoping that a second set of eyes might help her find it quicker.

“It’s a round thing with a lot of wires comin’ off of it?”

“Like this?”

The Doctor looked up quickly to see what Yaz was holding up, cocking her head to one side as she looked at the tangled ball of metal and wires. “Hmm. A bit. But it’s bigger, and pink, with more corners.” 

“…Right.”

She saw Yaz stand out of the corner of her eye, dusting off her trousers, and heading deeper into the clutter. She glanced up at her properly, offering an almost-guilty smile.

“Promise I’ll take you somewhere nice after this, yeah?” She said, glancing over to the monumental stack of books Yaz had just disappeared behind. “Barcelona or somethin’. Somewhere sunny.”

“Is it gonna to be like the last time you promised to take me somewhere nice?”

“Hey I have apologised about that! I got the year a bit wrong!”

Yaz’s head popped up over the wall of books and boxes. “You parked us at the bottom of the Thames!”

“In my defence it was meant to be frozen! And the frost faire is awesome when you actually get it right- I was just aiming for a year without any giant fish monsters.”

“Do I even wanna know?” Yaz asked, before disappearing into the boxes again. “Actually, no, no I really don’t.”

After that, they fell into a comfortable kind of quiet for a few minutes, with only the sounds of their rummaging through boxes, paired with the occasional remark about what one of them had found- mostly from the Doctor, since at least half of the items in the room were practically unidentifiable without any foreknowledge.

“Doctor?” Yaz asked, finally breaking the quiet. She was a good deal further away in the darkened space than the Doctor had expected, prompting her to quickly dump what had been in her lap onto the floor, and start heading towards the noise. Nothing in the box she’d been checking had been the right size for the part she was looking for anyway. She got about half way across the maze of assorted objects, before Yaz spoke again, and she suddenly stiffened. “Why do you have a cot in here?”

When she looked over she could see Yaz’s hand sitting on the edge of an entirely-too familiar cot, faded from thousands of years sitting out of her sight. She’d never been able to bare the thought of actually getting rid to it, even if the questions hurt every time she stumbled upon it. It was settled neatly between two shelves. This area had clearly shifted in transit- she could see a TARDIS model laying on the floor, next to a torn veil, a blue diary, and a glass box containing a shattered metal star. Allowing herself a moment to compose herself, the Doctor paused under the guise of inspecting a towering stack of mismatched chairs, before forcing her face into a grin.

“Oh I’ve got all sorts in here. Don’t even remember where most of it came from.” Even to her own ears, the false cheer in the Doctor’s voice felt hollow.

“Do you have kids?”

It was an innocent enough question, she had to remind herself of that, because the Doctor’s first instinct at a question like that had always been to run, or shout and she certainly didn’t want to do either of those things now- not in front of Yaz. Instead, she swallowed hard, and busied herself picking up an overturned umbrella stand, returning the discarded black umbrella, sword, and baseball bat which usually stood in it with a little more care than was strictly necessary. It gave her an excuse not to look at Yaz while she spoke.

“No. I mean.” She paused briefly, taking a breath, “Not for a long time.”

The silence that fell after she said that was deafening, and she almost felt guilty for not lying, but then what good would lying do, really? She’d never really hidden it before, not with people she’d cared about this much. Knowing about her family had saved Clara’s life once, after all. Her fingers brushed over the spine of 101 places to see as she walked past the shelf that held it.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Yaz looked across at her as she spoke, her fingers now hovering an inch or so above the side of the crib, as though she was afraid of touching it. It should have been covered, but the cloth had slipped with everything else. It was probably the TARDIS’ way of trying to force her to confront things. This disused corner of a room she avoided like the plague was as good as a graveyard by now.

“It was a long time ago.”

“That doesn’t mean it stops hurting.”

Not for the first time, the Doctor was struck by just how mature humans could be, even when they were this young. For all of their knowledge and power, Gallifrey had never prepared it’s citizens for death- they cheated it as long as they could, and when one of them did fall mourning was never something discussed. They had ceremonies for cremation, as they did with everything else, but you were expected to repress any feelings about the matter. Shorter human lifespans and their comparable fragility seemed to give them a much better outlook on this stuff- they might not relish death, but they could always face the raven, in the end.

She curled a hand around one of the golden spindles of the crib, taking a breath, before finally speaking again.

“I had two, a very long time ago. One- I lost her. She was very sick- she should have been able to…” She shook her head. “Somethin’ went wrong. The other never actually slept in here, but she- she died saving my life. I wasn’t fast enough to save her.” She was gripping the spindle tightly enough that her knuckles had turned white now, but the Doctor barely noticed, staring at the white sheet that was sitting inside of it. She felt a hand pressed to the small of her back, a gentle, reassuring warmth.

“I’m sorry, Doctor. I shouln’t have asked-“ Yaz started, moving to stand beside her, a reassuring presence guarding against the lonely weight in her hearts.

“It’s alright, you din’t know.”

She leant down just long enough to pick up the sheet that should have covered the crib, holding it in two hands, as though it was very precious to her. It was incredibly old, almost as old as the crib itself, faintly yellowed at the edges with age, and covered with dozens of embroidered daisies. It looked hand made, though it was difficult to tell in the half-light. She brushed over one with her thumb gently, leaning ever so slightly into Yaz’s side and allowing herself a brief moment to take comfort in the closeness.

“There’s a story, y’know. A really old one. That when a kid dies before their parents the gods cover their grave in daisies to try’n make the people left behind smile again.” The Doctor moved to cover the crib with the cloth again as she spoke. making sure it wouldn’t slip as easily this time.

“Is that a Time Lord thing?” Yaz asked, and the Doctor couldn’t help the hollow laugh that escaped her.

“No. Stars, no. It’s human- Celtic, if I’m rememberin’ right. My lot aren’t good with death.”

“But you believe it?”

The Doctor shook her head. “No. Well, not really. It’s just a story- but.” She bit her lip slightly. “All stories come from somewhere, an’…” She finally looked away, turning to face Yaz properly. She paused for a brief moment, having to fight this new body’s instincts to hide. In the end, she pulled her into a slightly too-tight hug, pressing her face into her shoulder.

Hugging’s a great way to hide your face.

Yaz seemed a little caught off guard, but she took it in stride, one arm settling around the blonde’s waist and holding her in place, while her other hand moved to pet her hair reassuringly. She didn’t speak- there wasn’t much she could say- just giving the Doctor the time she needed to process the rest of her thoughts.

“Stories have gotta come from somewhere, an’ there’s no magic daisies, but there’s always people. It never stops hurting, even after this long, but there are always good people there who’re gonna make you smile.” Her voice came out muffled against Yaz’s shoulder, but she thought that the sentiment probably got across anyway. “There’s always love.”

Silence fell for a few minutes. Yaz didn’t seem to know what to say, and the Doctor had said everything she could.

“I know you don’t like sharing.” She eventually said, her fingers still moving gently through the blonde’s hair in a gesture that was more comforting than it had any right to be, “But if you ever wan’ to, ’m right here.”

“Thanks.” The Doctor eventually pulled back from the hug when she was sure she’d gotten herself composed, offering Yaz a half-smile which felt a lot more genuine than her false cheer from earlier. “Come on, I’ll find the part later.” She looped an arm gently around the other woman’s waist, beginning to lead her back out away from the makeshift graveyard for all those she’d lost. “How about we get ice cream? I know a great place- three thousand flavours, and all of them are blue.”

“Ice cream sounds good.” Yaz nodded, glancing back briefly, before allowing herself to be led out.

Things might not have been quite normal- the Doctor was being more affectionate, and her babbling wasn’t quite as animated as usual- but whatever had shifted today seemed as though, in the long run, it would be a good thing for them.

It would hurt, for a while, but they had love to soften the blow, and that was enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title comes from The Children We Didn't Have from Beetlejuice.
> 
> They laugh on swings.  
> They whisper things I’m not supposed to know.  
> And they’ll never stop to see,  
> The mother that never was,  
> That’s me.
> 
> Chapter title playlist can be found here: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5CUnm7fntJlE2mlfQv4jvJ?si=8_tTLDsDRYyC2t9tyOUPDA


	11. Starchips: We'll See Both Sunlight and Storms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s a risky date when you’re technically made of liquid, but they couldn’t resist stopping to watch the solar flare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for how short this chapter is and the late upload- I was sick yesterday so this was pretty much all I managed to get done- I added a little more today but I didn't want to wind up even further behind trying to play catch up.

**Day Eleven**  
Theme: Flare  
Ship: Bill Potts/Heather

“And you’re sure this is _safe_?”

“Nothing’s hurt you since we’ve been doing this, has it?”

The smile Heather was giving her bordered on cocky, but it at least looked cute on her. Honestly, even if it hadn’t, it wasn’t as though Bill could really argue that she was wrong- so far everything on their trip had gone perfectly to plan. Heather just seemed to have sixth sense for these things; they’d yet to even land on a particularly cloudy day.

“Don’t get all smug on me.” She crossed her arms over her chest, though she couldn’t quite keep the smile off of her face. It was pretty difficult not to smile when this was her life now. “I’m just sayin’ hanging out near a sun storm when we’re basically made of water might not be a good idea.”

Heather let out a little hum, moving up behind her and pushing herself up on tiptoes to rest her chin on Bill’s shoulder, her arms moving around her waist. “I promise that it’s safe. Do you trust me?”

There was a moment’s hesitation before Bill nodded. “Course I trust you. I’m out here aren’t I?”

“Good, because it’s beautiful- I mean, I know we’ve seen some pretty amazing stars since we’ve been out here but-“

Bill didn’t give her a chance to say anything else, spinning around a little too quickly in front of herm fingers curling around two handfuls of her jumper and pulling her in for a kiss. Even after months of doing this, she wasn’t sure she’d ever get used to that giddy feeling that settled in her chest at kissing Heather, finding herself smiling against the blonde’s lips without ever meaning to. She was still sort of getting used to how things felt now, in this new body with new sensations, but when they were like this- prepssed together with Bill’s heart beating a little too hard against her ribs- she felt more human than she’d ever felt before she’d stepped onto that ship.

“But I can see the most amazing star in the universe without ever going outside?” Bill asked once they’d pulled back, her eyes locking with Heather’s, enjoying the way that, despite everything, she could still make her blush.

“How long have you been waiting to use that line?”

“About five minutes.” Bill smiled a little wider at the knowing look that one earned her. “…Or three weeks. Either way it’s true.”

“I hated that so much when I was human.” Heather said, making a vague gesture at her eye as she spoke, as though that much wasn’t obvious. As she lowered her hand again, she took the opportunity to grab one of Bill’s. “I never really believed it was pretty, or whatever. Then you came along.”

“It’s a good thing you kept it, really. Very on brand for us now.”

Heather snorted at that- it was a pretty undignified sort of laugh, but luckily she’d never had to put up much of a pretence of dignity around Bill. “ _On brand_?”

“Yeah. Like Bill Potts and the girl with the stars in her eyes.” She laughed herself at that. “Nah. Sounds a bit too much like a kids book, doesn’t it?”

“It’d be a good one, though. You could write it.”

“If we ever stay in one place long enough.”

“We’ve got forever.” Heather reminded. “So. Solar flare in the Nexkonne system?”

“It’s a date.”

Bill felt Heather’s other hand clasped around hers, and then all at once they seemed to collapse in on themselves. It was a sensation Bill wasn’t ever sure she’d get fully used to, falling in on herself in one place and seeping into the ground, only to reconstruct somewhere else. It’d been terrifying at first, but Heather still took her hand every single time, and the places they came out at the other end almost always made the discomfort worth it. This time she let Heather guide her, unsure of exactly when they were supposed to be going, and soon found her feet planted on the surface of a dry, rocky moon, close enough to the sun to burn any chance of life.

Bill knew if either of them were human they’d have burned on contact, but these forms could take a lot of punishment- she’d seen as much when Heather had walked unscathed through dalek fire. As it was she couldn’t feel much more than a vague prickling of heat against her skin, even when Heather gestured for her to sit down on the scorching stone.

“So how do we know when it starts?” Bill leant back on her hands and looked up at the sun, her legs stretched out in front of her. 

“You’ll be able to see it.”

“Are you sure, it’s a bit- Oh.” Her eyes widened slightly as the first flaming arc bloomed, forming a single glowing loop that began to rain fire back down onto the surface of the sun below. “That is insane.”

“I told you it was beautiful.”

“It really is.” Bill nodded along, watching the spectacle unfold, an awestruck smile playing across her face. It was difficult for much to actually provoke that reaction after everything she’d seen in her travels with the Doctor, but there was something unspeakably magnificent about the sheer scale of the flare she couldn’t seem to look away.

“How long was it? For you, I mean. Between you leaving and finding me again?”

It was a question Bill had been putting off asking for a long time now, feeling a little guilty about the idea she might have left Heather alone for too long while she was running around having adventures.

“How long have you been with me since?” Heather asked in return, and Bill found that when she actually tried to quantify it her answer kept shifting. It was tricky to measure the passage of time when you weren’t bound by the constructs of it- neither of them needed to eat or sleep, and they rarely stayed in one place long enough to pass more than a few sunsets at most- not that those were a good measure either when each planet counted time differently. It could have been days or years of adventure and she wouldn’t know.

“I don’t know.”

“Because it doesn’t matter.”

Bill paused for a moment, trying to think whether it made sense to try and work it out, but of course it didn’t. They had forever, what did it matter if they were days or years into it? She shifted her weight onto one hand, finding Heather’s with the other and linking their fingers together, before going back to watching the storm.

“Just a different kind of living?”

“Just a different kind of living.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title comes from Sunlight and Storms from Starry. 
> 
> Nothing is strange. Nothing is boring.   
> He’s my husband, and my friend.   
> Together we’ll see both sunlight and storms,  
> But equally sacred to us.
> 
> Chapter title playlist can be found here: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5CUnm7fntJlE2mlfQv4jvJ?si=8_tTLDsDRYyC2t9tyOUPDA


	12. Space Wives: True to You Darlin' (In My Way)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor can be a real hypocrite when it comes to jealousy sometimes- especially when she stumbles across her wife's wedding.

**Day Twelve**  
**Theme: Green**  
**Ship: Thirteen/River Song**

“What’s so important about this wedding anyway?”

The Doctor’s friends had been trying to get an answer to that one for hours, not that it’d done them much good so far. Her mind had clearly been elsewhere since they landed on this planet and stumbled across the odd little stall shilling royal wedding paraphernalia. She’d stared at a novelty tea towel for a few minutes, made a vague spluttering noise, and then began to march them in the direction of what they assumed was the palace. They were lucky, really, that she was so accustomed to getting into places she shouldn’t have been, or they might have had a harder time bluffing their way through the half-dozen security checkpoints, though of course the higher security the areas they were trespassing in grew the more nervous the three humans became. They already stood out amongst the bug-eyed, grey-skinned inhabitants of this planet, they didn’t need to get caught sneaking into their heart of power- though the Doctor certainly looked determined to do so.

“Doc what’s going on?” It was Graham this time, since she hadn’t answered Yaz’s question, and the Doctor blinked briefly, as though drawn out of her own mind by the sound of her name.

“I know the bride.”

It wasn’t much of an explanation, but it was all they got, because all at once she was marching forwards again, psychic paper in hand walking up ot get another guard and leaving her friends struggling to catch up. Despite being a relatively petite person, she could certainly move when she wanted to.

“Is this the kind of knowin’ the bride that’s gonna get us thrown out of a plane?” Ryan asked, clearly remembering the last time they’d met one of the Doctor’s old friends. She didn’t give a response.

Whatever she said to the next set of guards it certainly seemed to have made an impression, based on the young woman in a lime-green blazer who immediately came rushing up to them, all smiles with too many teeth and overly polite greetings, chattering away about how excited they were to have been able to track them all down on such short notice (none of the humans could actually tell what it was they were apparently here to do, so they kept their mouths shut and tried to look as confident as the Doctor did) and how pleased the bride would be that they were finally here.

They were led through an ornate, alien structure which looked like a mix of imperial Russia and Star Trek, the maze of corridors confusing them so thoroughly that they doubted they’d be able to get out without help. It almost seemed like an intentional choice, to keep them from trying anything, though the sinister nature of that thought was one which left a bad enough taste in their mouths they quickly tried to shoo it away.

“The Lady Melody is waiting in here for you, Mr Pond.” Their guide gave a little bow at the baffled looking Graham, nodding towards an overly-ornate door at the end of a corridor, flanked by two stern-looking guards, who thankfully stepped aside without questioning them.

The Doctor strode into the room without hesitation, and her friends decided it was safer to stick with her than to brave the labyrinthine alien palace alone in an attempt to get back to the TARDIS, so they quickly followed. The room itself was just as ornate as everything else they’d seen, and was, thankfully, deserted with the exception of a distinctly human-looking woman sitting at a vanity, already dressed and pinning the last of her curls into some similarly over the top style. She didn’t turn to face them, but it was clear she was watching them move in the mirror.

“Now, would you four like to tell me who you are? Because I’ve just been told my father is coming to visit, and I know for a fact that’s not true given that he’s in New York. And dead.”

For the first time the Doctor looked a little sheepish, though it wasn’t enough to make her back off. “

“Oi, Doc. Did you tell people I was her dad?” Graham hissed.

“Psychic paper.” She shrugged as though that was an excuse, “Tells people what it has to, that was what got us in.”

When she hadn’t gotten a response from them immediately the woman had begun fiddling with something sitting on her vanity, and they were all suddenly very distracted by a vaguely familiar whirring noise as she turned to point whatever it was at them.

“Well, you’re human, so I can see why they believed you. I’d guess you’re the only humans in this star system aside from-“ She paused, eyeing the Doctor with renewed interest. Her companions shuffled uncomfortably at that look. “Oh _really_? Today?” She sounded more annoyed than anything. “It’s _you_ , isn’t it?”

“Yes it’s me!”

“You’ve regenerated again. I must say it’s an improvement on the last body. Scottish didn’t suit you much.” The Doctor pulled a face, and opened her mouth to retort, but the woman at the vanity cut her off again. “What is that now? Eighty-six times? You really should start taking better care of them.”

“Eighty-six? What?”

“Look if this is about that airlock business you tried to throw me out of it too, so really we’re even.”

“ _What_?” The Doctor, Ryan, Graham and Yaz all asked in near-perfect unison. The bride laughed.

“Since when do you travel with humans. anyway? Isn’t that more _his_ thing?”

“River-“

“Melody.” The woman corrected her, glancing towards the door. The humans in the room shuffled forwards away from it slightly, suddenly struck by the sense that the guards might be more dangerous to them than the Doctor had been letting on.

“ _Melody_.”

“Look what do you want, Missy? I know you’re not here to kill me, so-“

“ _Missy_?” The Doctor sounded incredulous. “You think _I’m_ Missy? Wait, you _know_ Missy?”

“She’s a psychopath galivanting around the Universe obsessed with my husband, I was bound to run into her at some point.”

“Doctor, who-“ Yaz started, but the woman very quickly cut her off at that.

“ _Doctor_?” The woman- River, Melody, whatever her name was- was on her feet in an instant, striding over towards them and standing in front of the Doctor, looking her over. “Is it really you?” The Doctor nodded. “Oh well _hello sweetie_ \- now this really _is_ an upgrade- how did you manage that?”

“A thing happened.” She shrugged, offering the same vague explanation she had the last time River had asked. It was good to know where they were on her timeline- or at least that this was pre-Derillium for her. A part of her had thought she’d run into River on one of her impromptu trips off-world when domesticity had gotten a little too boring for the pair of them- after all, they had a time machine, they could take their twenty-four years in instalments if they needed a little action in between.

“It certainly did.” River circled her quickly, before coming to a stop in front of her. “Oh but I love it- how _exciting_. Can’t wait to see if blondes really do have more fun.” The Doctor’s face turned pink at that, though not quite as badly as it might have in her Eleventh incarnation. “Oh and you’re less of a blusher this time!” River remarked, smirking slightly.

“Is anyone gonna tell the rest of us what’s goin’ on here?”

The Doctor glanced back at her friends as though realising they were there for the first time. “Oh! Oh, right. Yeah. Fam-“

“ _Fam_?”

“ _Sonic trowel_.”

“Touché.”

“ _Anyway_. Fam, meet the wife. Professor-” She glanced at River for confirmation the title was correct, before continuing, lowering her voice slightly so that the guards wouldn’t hear. “Professor River Song.”

Now that sparked an immediate response from the three humans.

“You’re _married_?”

“Bloody hell Doc, you could have mentioned!”

“Hang on, if she’s your wife how come we’re at her weddin’?”

The Doctor raised an eyebrow at that, glancing at River. “Yes, _wife_ , how come we’re at your weddin’?”

“Don’t start.” River glanced over at her, eyebrows raised. “Not that jealousy doesn’t look lovely on you, dear, but you’re hardly one to talk about monogamy.”

“Hey!”

“Elizabeth I.”

“That was before we met!” The Doctor protested, “And I thought she was a zygon!”

“Marilyn Monroe.”

“Amelia Earhart.”

“Anne Boleyn.”

“Bernice Summerfield!”

“Clara Oswald!”

“Jack Harkness!”

“Missy!”

“The Master doesn’t count!” The Doctor argued, crossing her arms over her chest, something which might have been the beginning of a pout playing across her face.

“Wait hang on. _The Master_?” Yaz asked, looking between the two of them as if they’d grown extra heads while they’d been standing around.

“Is anyone else proper confused right now?” Ryan glanced at Graham and Yaz briefly, finally seeming to draw the bickering couple’s attention long enough to distract them.

“The Doctor gets _jealous_ from time to time, even though she’s been married way more times than I have.” River crossed her arms over her chest, mirroring her wife’s position.

“Hang on, did you really marry Elizabeth I?” Graham asked.

“Did you really marry The Master? Like The Master that we met?” It was Yaz speaking up this time.

“Oh he’s a man again then?” River sounded interested. “I’ll keep an eye out. And yes, yes she has. Four times, that I know of.”

“Five.” The Doctor corrected, unable to help herself.

“Missy?”

“Missy.”

“So we can acknowledge that you’re being a hypocrite while I’m trying to work?” River raised an eyebrow.

“How is this work?” The Doctor changed the subject and took a step closer, suddenly struck by how much shorter than River she was now, especially when her wife was in heels. It was surreal after being the tallest for so long. “You’re an archaeologist.”

“It’s pre-emptive archaeology.” River held up her hand, showing off an engagement ring. “These rings go missing in a year or so, I’m planning on digging them up.”

“Isn’t that cheatin’?” Ryan asked, and River shot him a grin.

“Well that very much depends on your definition of cheating.” She winked, and the Doctor cleared her throat. “My oh my this face really is prone to the little green monster, isn’t it?”

“River.” Her voice had a warning note to it, though it softened almost immediately once her wife moved closer, pulling her into a quick, rough kiss. It was her first in this body, and more than enough to distract her.

“You’re very lucky jealousy looks so good on you, Sweetie. Just let me get through the vows and get the ring, and then you can give me a ride home. I can meet you at the TARDIS in an hour. Deal?”

The Doctor let out a little hum, before nodding. The kiss seemed to have softened her a little. “Deal.”

River grinned, kissing her one more time before slipping off out of the door.

“So.” It was Graham that spoke up first. “That was your Missus?”

“Yep.” The Doctor was staring at the door still, a proud grin spread across her face.

“Mrs Doctor. Never thought I’d see that one.”

“Oh, I’m Mr Song.”

“…Is that how that works?” Ryan asked, but River’s voice drifted in from outside before anyone else could answer.

“It’s definitely how that works.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title comes from Always True to You (In My Fashion) from Kiss Me Kate.
> 
> There's a lush from Portland, Ore.,  
> Who is rich, but such a bore.  
> When the bore falls on the floor I let him lay  
> But I'm always true to you, darlin', in my fashion.  
> Yes, I'm always true to you, darlin', in my way.
> 
> Chapter title playlist can be found here: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5CUnm7fntJlE2mlfQv4jvJ?si=8_tTLDsDRYyC2t9tyOUPDA


	13. W!Masmin: I Am There Inside.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's someone in Yasmin Khan's mirror, and she's determined to find out who they are- even if nobody else believes her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is a pretty long one. Can you tell I adored this prompt? I love anything paranormal- I didn't want to make what's going on with the Master to be too set in stone (no pun intended) so it's more just vague sinister magic, but I hope that doesn't take anyone too out of it.
> 
> Just so you're aware I did initially write this with smuttier sections, but I wanted to keep the rating for this compilation as teen, so if you'd rather read the extended version I'll be posting it as a standalone oneshot

**Day Thirteen**  
Theme: Paranormal AU  
Ship: W!Master/Yasmin Kahn

There was someone behind her in the mirror.

A few months ago, it might have scared her, but Yasmin Kahn knew better, by now.

The first time it’d happened she’d practically torn her room apart, looking for someone hiding, or some trick to project the effect. She’d been home alone, and there was no way that anyone could actually be there, but she’d read too many stories about awful break-ins during her training to trust her own gut.

The mirror was new- or new to her, at least. She’d picked it up from a second-hand shop after Sonya had slammed her door open too hard and shattered the last one. Luckily she liked this one a lot better so she hadn’t been too annoyed. It had an antique look to it which seemed a little out of place in her room, with that tarnished silver frame, finished with an ornate set of angel wings at the top. Not the kind of thing she’d normally have gone for, but she’d been strangely drawn to it.

After a few days, she’d realised that the figure was always there, just standing and staring at her when she was home alone. It really should have been more unsettling than it was.

Maybe it helped somehow that the woman- because even in those early days when she hid her face in shadows, she was clearly a woman- was beautiful. It took a long time for her to actually show her face, but even before she did there was something utterly captivating about her.

By the time a week had rolled around, Yasmin was becoming obsessed. She’d tried mentioning it to friends, but of course they looked at her like she was crazy. After that she began to keep it to herself. She’d done research, found forums of people reporting similar phenomena, but they never actually matched up like she wanted them to. They were shadows that passed quickly and never came back, or stories made up to frighten teenagers. Her apparition was very real, and Yasmin was convinced she was getting closer as time went on.

When research failed, Yasmin settled for buying a notebook (blood red, like the spectre’s lipstick), and sitting down in front of the mirror when she was home alone, writing notes about what she saw. The woman didn’t move much, at first, but she could see other things that weren’t right. The little fairy shelf-sitter she’d had since she was a little girl looked wrong- its wings were feathered where they’d never been before, and it’d turned an ashy grey colour. If she stared at its reflection long enough, she could have sworn it was crying. Then there was the clock- an ornate grandfather clock standing right at the edge of the reflection no matter what angle she watched from.

The colours were off too- the longer she stared at the image the more things seemed to shift. The cool blue of her walls looked red, as did the purples of her bedsheets. Everything shifted, reflected back at her bathed in the scarlet glow the figure seemed to give off. In time even her clothes would reflect back at her in a darker hue as the woman in the mirror infected everything she touched.

When she’d been watching it long enough, she swore she began to hear it chime on the hour.

Slowly, far more slowly than she’d have liked, the woman in the mirror began to reveal herself more and more. She exuded danger, but that only served to set Yasmin’s heart racing in a way she’d always hoped police work would, and each new revelation was met with an increased frenzy of scribbling in her book. She’d shifted position at one point, revealing a glimpse pale skin scattered with dark, circular patterns, creeping under her sleeves. Yasmin had done her best to copy the symbols out, as though they held the secret to the universe itself hidden within them.

“You can come out.” She’d eventually tried, glancing towards the door nervously despite herself. Her voice sounded too loud after hours spent in silence, and even though her family were out of the flat she was still nervous about the ridicule she might receive for talking to her own reflection. “I won’t tell.”

Seeming to sense Yasmin’s hesitation, the figure had slunk back into the shadows, out of sight. It’d taken Yasmin days to tempt her back out again.

After that initial time speaking to the woman in the mirror, she gradually became a little more careful with it. It started off small- greeting the spectre when she got home, asking her opinion on which jacket she should wear (not that that ever got much of a response, but she was hoping that if she could show she was comfortable with her she might show herself again), and eventually sitting on a cushion in front of the mirror and just asking questions about her. What was her name? What was she doing there? What did she want?

After two weeks of trying, she finally got a response.

“Can you actually talk?” Yasmin asked, leaning a little closer to the mirror, and trying to pick out any features in the shadow.

“If I want to.” The voice seemed to echo more from inside of Yasmin than from the mirror, beginning behind her eyes and reverberating through her very being in a way that set her teeth on edge. It wasn’t an unpleasant voice, with an accent that almost seemed to mirror her own, but there was certainly a sinister edge to it.

“So why don’t you?” She asked, her voice suddenly betraying significantly more nerves than it had before. She shuffled slightly in her seat, before crossing one ankle behind the other to stop herself from moving.

“Why should I?”

“Do you at least have a name?” She didn’t much want to keep calling her visitor the woman in the mirror. A too-harsh laugh reverberated through her skull.

“Call me Master.”

Yasmin blinked, surprised. “W-What?” She stammered slightly over the question, genuinely caught off guard by the entire situation.

“Call me Master.” The spectre repeated. The voice was a little firmer now. It was an order, not a request.

“Master.”

Yasmin looked surprised at her own voice in the silence, the word drawn from her lips before she had even really given it permission to leave her. It proved worth it a moment later, when the shadowy figure took a step forwards, her features cast into sharp relief for the first time.

She was even more captivating than how Yasmin had built her up in her mind, with short blonde curls and eyes a that could drive a girl mad. The sleeves of her red button-up were rolled up, exposing those circular patterns inked across her left forearm. There was a singular one surrounded by flowers on her right hand. They matched the ones that snaked around her left calf, visible between the hem of her cropped black trousers and her boots. A final black design seemed to poke out of her collar below her jawbone, but it was too covered to see properly. An amused smirk began to play across her scarlet-painted lips as she looked at Yasmin, before she finally spoke again.

“Good girl.”

The Master didn’t bother hiding from her any more after that. It seemed as though Yasmin had passed some test by agreeing to call her by her name because now almost every time she looked into her mirror, she was there. What was better, she’d actually speak to her now, at least on the days she was in a good mood. It took her a while to get used to that odd reverberating sensation, but she’d actually come to relish it. It felt entirely too intimate, like someone poking at the very root of everything she was, but it also meant that her Master was pleased with her.

She’d asked about why she was there before, but the Master had never told her. Today, though, something seemed to have changed. That, or Yasmin had finally proved faithful enough to be worth pushing further. Either way, she excused herself from dinner rather quickly when she felt that all-too familiar tugging behind her eyes, quickly locking the door, and kneeling down in front of the mirror. Something about this time felt urgent enough that she didn’t bother grabbing her desk chair. The smile she earned for it made the discomfort of her knees on the wooden floor more than worth it.

“Do you trust me Yasmin?”

Hearing her full name in that voice sent a shudder down Yasmin’s spine. Very few people actually called her that, and the Master rarely called her by name at all. She found herself nodding before she even had time to think about the question, because of course she did.

“I can’t hear you.” Her lips quirked into a wicked smirk, and Yasmin watched as her eyes flicked to the door behind her. She knew that Yasmin wasn’t alone.

“Yes.” She said, a little too quickly.

“Yes what, Lovely?”

Yasmin visibly brightened at being called that.

“Yes Master.”

“You asked me how I ended up in here.” she raised a hand, resting it against the glass of the mirror. Her palm whitened as she pressed it against the barrier, and for the briefest of moments the glass actually seemed to deform outwards. She snatched her hand back with a hiss of pain, flexing her fingers, her pretty features formed into a snarl. “I assume you’re smart enough to know it’s not by choice.”

Yasmin nodded, and then remembering the reaction that had earned her the last time, she quickly spoke again, trying her best to keep her voice down so she wouldn’t have to deal with family interrupting them.

“You’re trapped in there?” She eventually asked, wanting the clarification.

“Mhm.” The Master looked rather pleased she’d noticed her mistake without needing to be corrected. “At the hands of a good man- or, that’s what he calls himself, at least. Then again lots of angels think they’re good. Doesn’t make it true.” The little angel statue in the mirror lowered it’s hands, giving Yasmin a wicked, toothy grin. Yasmin sucked in a breath, and quickly turned around, only seeing the innocent pink fairy in its place behind her. The Master chuckled at her reaction, that dark, twisted little sound that set Yasmin’s teeth on edge. “They won’t hurt you, Lovely. You’re my friend, they know better.”

When she said they, Yasmin’s eyes quickly darted around the mirror room. It wasn’t just the fairy any more, every statuette, every plush toy, and every familiar face in a photograph, had taken on those ash-grey wings, and begun covering their faces. There were dozens of them.

“What are they?” Yasmin asked, a little breathless as more and more of them began to grin at her.

“Don’t you believe in angels, Yasmin?”

Ever since the Master had begun confiding in her more, Yasmin seemed to have more and more to do. She wasn’t entirely sure what she was doing- meeting with contacts, passing on cryptic messages, and bringing home odd little parcels left at random drop-offs throughout the county- but she knew that it was all in aid of helping her friend escape. There was something which felt deeply wrong about going so hard against her police training, but Yasmin couldn’t help it. She was more enamoured with her secret friend than she’d care to admit, and if she could help her escape, she was going to do it.

This latest one was the strangest of all- and certainly the least convenient. The Master had sent her to an antique shop all the way out in York, looking for a broken grandfather clock of all things. She’d found it, of course, and paid a pretty penny for the privilege of owning it, not to mention the funny looks her mother had given her when she’d finally managed to get it up the stairs and into their flat, but still, it was here, standing dusty and disused against the wall of her room, and the Master had seemed very pleased indeed.

“Open the front of it, Angel.” The Master said once she saw it in place, a wild, excited grin playing across her lips as she watched Yaz’s movements. Once the glass was open, she moved almost out of sight, toying with the latch on her own counterpart- the one that had been barely-in-view since Yasmin had first seen her.

“Reach inside.”

“What?” Yasmin turned to face her, suddenly looking nervous. The Master’s smile turned to a teasing pout, though it was still brimming with barely-concealed glee.

“Don’t you trust me, Yasmin?” The Master’s voice was honey, and Yasmin all too soon felt herself complying, reaching in, waiting for her fingers to hit the rusted pendulum. They never did. She felt resistance, as though she was pushing against cling-film, and then all at once her fingers broke through.

It was as if she’d plunged her hand into ice. All at once they were so cold that they burned, and almost too stiff to bend. Yasmin yelped, trying to yank her hand back, but the pressure of another hand wrapped around hers stopped her. She felt something painfully cold press against her hand briefly, before she was able to drag it back from inside the damned clock, holding it protectively against her chest.

“It needs repairs, but it’ll work.” The Master remarked, sounding rather distant.

Yasmin looked at her hand, and found it looked remarkably normal despite the pain. What was more, it had a kiss mark on the back. She looked up, startled, and sure enough the Master- _her_ Master- was smiling at her, her usually perfect lipstick just slightly smudged.

“It’s a door! You can come through?” Yasmin asked eagerly, feeling her heartrate pick up in anticipation, brushing a thumb almost reverently over the scarlet kiss.

“Soon, Angel. Very, very soon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title comes from The Mirror (Angel of Music) from The Phantom of the Opera. It wasn't the song I had in mind initially, but I remembered it existed, and it was too perfect not to use.
> 
> Flattering child you shall know me,  
> See why in shadow I hide.  
> Look at your face in the mirror,  
> I am there inside.
> 
> Chapter title playlist can be found here: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5CUnm7fntJlE2mlfQv4jvJ?si=8_tTLDsDRYyC2t9tyOUPDA


	14. Clashildr: Into the Eye of the Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ashildr's heart will never stop beating, and Clara's will never beat again. Clara spends a few quiet moments listening to Me's heartbeat and reflecting on the direction her life has taken.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: Does Femslash Feb rather than Whumpuary because I don't wanna write anything too angsty.  
> Also me: Turns half the Femslash Feb prompts into oppertunities for angst.

**Day Fourteen**  
Theme: Heart  
Pairing: Me/Clara Oswald

When she was a little girl, Clara didn’t ever think she’d reach this point. Of course, she really doubted anyone ever thought they’d reach this point- she was impossible in every sense of the word, but still. For the first time in a very long time, her life felt peaceful. She was aware that the dynamic she’d fallen into with Ashildr- with Me- was more born out of their situation than downright compatibility. She couldn’t say that if they’d met normally, with no Doctor and no death sentences they’d have wound up together, but it was how to deny that they fit together like two pieces of one whole.

Me’s heart would never stop beating, and hers would never beat again.

It was a morbid puzzle, granted, but immortality was a heavy toll, and they both needed someone to cling to when they’d lost everyone else, so they’d stumbled into each other’s arms, and for now at least it suited them.

This TARDIS, at least, seemed to like her a lot more than the Doctor’s. It’d given her a bedroom, at least, which really was an improvement. She’d spent enough time camped out on the sofa’s in the library to last a fair few lifetimes. Of course, she didn’t particularly need one any more- unlike her companion, she didn’t need to sleep, but it was still nice to know that the ship cared about her on some level.

Most nights, she’d find a warm room with a cosy looking chair and curl up with a book, just to pass the time until setting off again was an option. In a way it was a blessing- she finally had all the time in the Universe to make it through her extensive ‘to read’ pile, and even when she depleted that, she had access to every book in all of time and space. She’d never run out. Tonight though? Tonight she didn’t feel much like reading.

It’d been a bad day. Their adventures were nowhere near as dangerous as they had been with the Doctor- they liked to drop in and help where they could, but trouble didn’t seem to seek them out in the same way it always seemed to with him. It meant that days like this- where they actually lost- were rare. It’d seemed a simple enough mission; drop in, help the inhabitants of a mountainous planet fend off a hostile species intent on colonising and exploiting them, and fly off into the sunset in time for tea and a good book.

They hadn’t realised just how well armed the colonisers would be. They hadn’t expected them to target civilian bases. They hadn’t expected to get stuck in a siege they couldn’t win, helping mother’s to dig graves for their children. Clara hadn’t expected to see flashes of recognition flash across Me’s face at the activity, or as she tried to comfort the grieving- hints that as much as she fought to suppress the bad with the good, her most traumatic memories often stuck with her, even when it wasn’t at all fair for them to do so.

It didn’t help that Clara had spent the entire time trying to think what the Doctor would do if he was there- because as much as they wanted to help, they didn’t have anywhere near as much experience at playing hero.

They’d gotten out of there, in the end, saving the handful of villagers that remained and taking them to a neighbouring world, but it was nowhere near enough. Clara couldn’t help but wonder, if they’d just stayed out of the whole thing, would the locals have come up with a better plan on their own? Or would they have known when to surrender?

It was odd, really. Clara had seen death before, with the Doctor. She’d seen with Danny that sometimes you just couldn’t save everyone, but it didn’t make it easier when you were the one everyone was looking to for salvation and there was nothing you could do about it.

The pair of them had retreated to Me’s room when they’d gotten back to the TARDIS, not saying a word to one another, just crawling into her bed and trying to hold each other until the memories went away.

Me had fallen asleep hours before, dead to the world and looking more peaceful than Clara ever really got to see her looking awake. She wouldn’t risk doing anything to wake her, not now. She found herself still laying there, her head resting on Me’s chest, her arms still wrapped a little too tightly around the smaller woman’s waist, trying not to think about the fire and the screaming.

She found herself trying to focus on the tangible things in the room to take herself out of the memories.

First it was Me’s perfume, lingering on her skin. It was sharp and sweet, with an edge of spice to it. She’d apparently picked up a fondness for that sort of thing in the late middle ages, and while Clara may make jokes about her smelling like a Costa at Christmas, it was hardly unpleasant. It certainly blocked out the scent of smoke and gunpowder still clinging to the clothing they hadn’t yet shed.

After that, she moved on to the feeling of clean sheets wrapped around her. She would be forever grateful for that little quirk of TARDIS engineering which kept the bedding in that perpetual state of freshness- as though every single time she slipped into bed she put on a new set. It was comfortable, and made her feel bizarrely safe- though there was no logical reason it should have done. Maybe it was just because she hadn’t had to change them- it felt very much like being cared for, especially when combined with the gentle heat of a body pressed against her and Me’s soft skin under her fingertips.

Clara could feel Me’s chest rising and falling with each breath, suddenly becoming more aware of how still her own was. She tried for a minute or so, pulling in air she didn’t need, trying to breathe in time with her companion, but as soon as she stopped concentrating on the movement it stopped. She wanted to be sad, as if mourning the loss of her own humanity would somehow make her situation better. Maybe it was just that mourning that would help her stop focusing on the weight of all of the people they’d lost today.

She was beginning to wonder how the Doctor actually coped with all those losses. She’d known about them, of course, but knowing it and living it were very different things.

_Immortality isn’t living forever, that’s not what it feels like. Immortality is everyone else dying._

She’d never really expected to live long enough feel the Doctor’s words coming back to bite her.

As the quiet pressed in on her, she found something else to focus on in the sound of Me’s heartbeat. It was the only sound in the room, aside from that vague humming of the TARDIS which sounded very distant now, reminding her that she was lucky, at least for an immortal. She would see a lot of death, but some quirk of fate had brought the pair of them back together. Even when the rest of the world fell apart, they’d have one another.

She might not have been able to sleep any more, but the steady beating certainly lulled her out of her memories into something approaching rest, enough so that it took her a few minutes to adjust to the fingers gently brushing through her hair.

“You’re thinking very loudly.”

“Did I wake you up?”

“No. Don’t worry about it.” Me shook her head, and though Clara wasn’t sure she actually believed it, she wasn’t about to complain about the company. “You’re still thinking about the siege?”

“Of course I am. Do you think that if we hadn’t-“

Me cut her off before she could start wondering too much about what might have been.

“If we hadn’t been there they’d have fought to the death anyway. There was never any way that that was going to go- us being there got a few of them out, and gave them some time to bury the ones they’d lost.”

“And that’s what’s good, is it? Giving them the time to see that they’re about to die rather than letting it take them quick.”

She heard Me’s heartrate pick up slightly, but couldn’t quite bring herself to feel guilty.

“What would your dear Doctor say?” The slight bitter note to her voice when she said the Doctor’s name wasn’t lost on Clara, but she let it slide, at least for now. “It was kind.”

“Does it ever get easier?” Clara wasn’t keen on the way her voice sounded when she said that, but if Me noticed the fragility there she didn’t comment on it.

“You don’t want it to. When it gets easier it’s because you’re forgetting how to care, and if you forgot how to care you wouldn’t be you anymore.” Clara glanced up at Me, then, seeing a shadow of something which might have been shame crossing her face. “Pain keeps you human. I think your Doctor told me that once, too. It’s hazy.” 

“So we’re just supposed to go back out there and try again like it didn’t happen?”

Me took a breath, seeming to think for a moment before she spoke again.

“Not today.” She shifted her hand from Clara’s hair to her shoulder, pulling her a little closer. “Today we can just stay here. I’ll make breakfast and you can read me some poetry from that boring book you like so much-” Clara made an indignant noise, and Me laughed softly. “It’s true. And then we can maybe try and give the chameleon circuit another go? It’ll probably be easier with two sets of hands, and I’ve decoded plenty more of the manual now.”

“Okay.” Clara took a breath despite not needing one, mostly to steady herself. Her head was still laying on Me’s chest, and at some point during that exchange she’d begun playing with her hair again. It was definitely working on calming her down a little in combination with the steady thumping of her heartbeat. “Okay. That sounds nice.”

Clara may not have been searching for a peaceful life, but on days like this, when the Universe was a little too hard to face, she was glad of the stability Me provided. Their lives would never be easy, but in quiet moments like this, listening to the soft hum of their ship, and the beating of a heart that wouldn’t stop, she knew that they could make immortality work.

The Woman Who Lived and The Impossible Girl.

Eternity didn’t stand a chance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title comes from Quiet from Matilda. 
> 
> And it is quiet.  
> And I am warm.   
> Like I've slipped,  
> Into the eye of the storm.
> 
> Chapter title playlist can be found here: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5CUnm7fntJlE2mlfQv4jvJ?si=8_tTLDsDRYyC2t9tyOUPDA


	15. Thidris: Dream it Wasn't all my Fault

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor's time in prison left her dwelling on her past far more than is healthy. The TARDIS tries to break her out of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for grief/mourning and discussion of canonical character death
> 
> Really, what other ship was I going to write for this prompt?
> 
> I actually wrote up way more of the TARDIS' bigger on the outside nicknames for people than got used, there's a list of them on my tumblr here if you're interested: https://niceto-thetya.tumblr.com/post/643329894270582784/so-just-finished-a-oneshot-about-thirteen-and-the

**Day Sixteen  
Ship: Thirteen/The TARDIS  
Theme: Blue**

The Doctor was wondering through a graveyard. Specifically, the Doctor was wondering through the achingly familiar graveyard that stood just outside of the town of Christmas.

In fifteen lifetimes, it was probably the longest she’d ever stayed still. Of course, she couldn’t know for sure that she hadn’t settled properly before but- She shook her head. No sense thinking about that, now. If she’d settled before, she didn’t remember it. It didn’t matter. Not tonight.

She’d never returned to Christmas after the siege of Trenzalore. There had been people she knew there at the end, people she’d cared about, but she’d grown into a very old man there. She’d lost so many already that the whole town had begun to feel like a graveyard, especially once the attacks had begun. The guilt of trying and often failing to protect the citizens she’d endangered had never fully gone away. How many people in this town had gone to their graves early because of her?

She passed River’s grave first. She always did. Hers was the gateway, as it had been in the real Trenzalore. The shift from the reality of memory to the fantasy she’d built up. It wasn’t plain here, like the fake stone had been. Here she could make sure all of them had they deserved, and a soldier’s grave on a long-forgotten battlefield seemed a poor memorial for River Song. It was large, cut from white marble which seemed to shine in the moonlight. The letters cut into the stone glowed independently, the faintest whisps of regeneration energy pouring from them- the Doctor’s way of giving back a little of what she’d taken, at least in her mind.

She bent down for a moment, fingers brushing over the faded blue diary laying where her head would have been, pristine and untouched by the snow still falling around it.

“Hello sweetie.” She murmured quietly, pulling her hand back away from the book. When she did, there were roses sitting there, though she hadn’t been holding any a moment before. They were scarlet against the snow, long stemmed, with their thorns intact. Dramatic, beautiful, and a little bit dangerous, just like her wife.

Amy and Rory were next. They hadn’t had nearly enough time together in life, but she couldn’t split the Pond’s up. They shared a plot as they had in reality, settled beside their daughter for eternity. She stopped at that one too, leaving sunflowers for Amy’s sake, before moving on. She had a lot more people to visit before she woke.

They were the only three graves that ever stayed in the same place. The other’s shifted depending on her particular brand of guilt that week. It seemed as though this would be one of the gentler days, at first. She passed a stone cut from a yellowish-white moonstone which seemed to glow faintly with a light of its own. There was no snow laying on top of it, the heat of the stone’s luminescence keeping it clear without the need for intervention.

“Hello, Sarah Jane.” She didn’t kneel this time, bending down to leave daisies this time, before moving on. If she stopped properly at every grave eventually she just wouldn’t be able to move on. It’d happened too often already.

For a while, she only saw the less painful ones. Martha Jones and Mickey Smith, side by side at the base of the hill, Jamie McCrimmon right at it’s crest (because really, where else would he be), Ian and Barbara sharing a plot as the Ponds had done. Jo Grant was always a nice one to pass by; Beloved wife, mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother. She’d led a brilliant life full of so much love. It made it easier. She left flowers at each, and kept on walking, never pausing too long.

She passed over the beloved daughter and beloved granddaughter monuments a little too quickly, leaving flowers, but not actually stopping. Susan and Jenny were both people she struggled to think about, and if she stopped at those graves she wouldn’t be able to move on.

There were three generations of Lethbridge-Stewarts laying side by side. She stood in front of them and saluted. Somehow, she felt a little better afterwards.

Some people had more than one grave. Death was never simple enough in her world to have just one. Romana popped up twice, there were two for the Melody’s she’d failed, and another old friend had a dozen graves that she could see. Walking through the rows she spotted a monolith made of dark star alloy jutting from the earth like a fang. Another was a large, cracked sheet of inky black stone, the surface of the grave dotted with poppies like blood in the snow. The crumbling stone of the face he’d worn as Yana earned a glance, but nothing more.

She barely stopped at most, but the last two she passed earned a sentimental reaction despite their owner’s most recent betrayal.. She didn’t stop to read the weathered, purple-slate stone that actually looked like it might have come from earth, though she did brush her fingers gently over the umbrella stuck into the dirt in front of it, leaving it overflowing with violets and wolfsbane. She stopped at a slab of polished red stone that could only have been Gallifreyan. It seemed dull without the twin suns shining on it, but she could still read the circular golden letters set into it.

“What will it be this time, Koschei?” She asked, placing a hand flat against the stone, and closing her eyes. She wrinkled her nose at the smell that hit her a moment later, glancing down to see a bouquet of deep purple lilies with black spines emerging from their flowers. “Vampire lilies- fantastically poisonous, and they reek of death. How very you.”

The Doctor pulled her hand back and moved on, cautious of being in contact with the flowers too long.

Clara Oswald had three whole rows to herself. They were all a little different, a dozen echoes of one consciousness; Clara Oswald, Winnie Clarence, Oswin Oswald. There were more she’d never seen, never known, but these were the ones she could remember and memorialise. The Doctor thanked each one, and left flowers for them all, stopping at the final one on the row and placing a hand on it.

Clara Oswin Oswald.  
Impossible girl.  
Remember me.

“Always, you clever girl.” She promised, shutting her eyes and letting the feeling of cold stone under her fingers wash over her for a moment longer, before turning away. “Always.”

The point she knew things were about to go downhill was when she passed the first of the open graves. There was nothing to distinguish it, just a gaping black pit, but she knew who it’d been dug for. One of the few people who’d never use it- her fault. She’d taken away their choice to die. There were others around here too- She’d stumbled across Ashildr’s a week before.

“Sorry, Jack.” She stepped around it, glancing back guiltily, but forcing herself to keep moving. There was nothing she could do for him now.

She’d been right about it getting worse. Adric’s grave looked entirely too small among the others; a star cut from a blue crystalline substance that she couldn’t place. It didn’t matter much. He was so young, and she’d failed him. He deserved better in life and in death.

She passed a shining spire of spiralling volcanic glass, stopping to leave a rose of Pompeii. Donna Noble. The most important woman in the Universe. Another person she’d failed.

She was crouched by a monument carved from black opal, its surface reflecting a thousand colours back at her. This one got sunflowers too.

“Bill Potts. I should have left you smilin’.”

“You can’t keep coming here.”

The Doctor whirled around. She’d never seen another living person in this graveyard. There was a woman- an all too familiar woman leaning on one of the gravestones. She knew who she was straight away- all wild dark hair and golden eyes, and knowing looks, dressed in a patchwork of Victoriana. It was a dead woman’s face, but the Doctor knew why she’d wear it if she wanted to be recognised.

“They’re my dreams. I can come wherever I want.” She managed, trying to sound dismissive though her surprise at the interruption was plain in her voice.

“Doctor.” Her TARDIS had a warning note in that voice, as she took a few steps closer. “What was this?” She blinked a few times. “Is. What is this.”

The Doctor took a breath, and shook her head. “What’s what?”

The brunette gestured at the gravestone she’d just stepped away from. It was cut from rough sapphire, unpolished and imperfect, but all the more beautiful for it. There was a single square of polished stone in its centre. Yasmin Khan.

“You mourn them before they’ve even left you now, Thief?”

“They’re like smoke.” The words weren’t hers, but they fit here. They were the ones that had been sitting heavy in her chest for decades, as she stalked this lonely graveyard every night in prison, and every night since she came back.

At first there hadn’t been so many graves- Bill, River, Adric, Clara. The ones who were actually gone from the world. Then it was the ones dead to her; Donna, Rose, Amelia. One particularly lonely night she’d passed the Brigadier’s grave, and Archibald and Kate’s had been sitting either side of it. That was the night things had really gotten worse. That was the night she’d begun to mourn the living too.

“They’re human. You like that about them.”

When she looked up again, the woman in blue had moved closer, her slender fingers inches from the Doctor’s cheek. For anyone else, the sudden closeness might have made her flinch, but this? This was her TARDIS- her one constant on the battlefield that was her life.

“I destroy them.” She said, her voice thick with suppressed emotion. She tilted her head slightly, letting herself make contact with the woman’s fingers.

“They choose to come along. They know the risks, and for them it’s worth it.”

“It’s my job to keep them safe, and I never do.”

The TARDIS’s fingers had moved from her face now, running through her hair in a way that was oddly comforting. She wasn’t used to having hair this long, even after all this time, and since getting it- well. She’d so rarely allowed anyone to touch her gently for more than a few seconds.

“You know.” It was clearly an attempt to take her mind off of things, but the Doctor wasn’t about to complain about a chance of subject. “I rather like having a body.”

“Why did you decide to-“

The Doctor didn’t need to finish the question. The TARDIS didn’t need to answer- not verbally. She pulled the Doctor into a hug which was a little too tight, and reminded her very much of that first time on House. The Doctor melted into it. It should probably have been odd- she was several inches shorter now, and this body wasn’t usually one that gave into hugging easily, but there was something inexplicably right about it; A connection formed by millennia of being the centre of one another’s Universe.

“You’re dreaming. I can look however I want, Thief, and I thought you might need that.”

“Thank you.” The Doctor’s voice was muffled slightly against the TARDIS’ shoulder, but it wasn’t as though she’d ever really needed to speak out loud with her anyway. They had a connection which went so much deeper than mere words.

“Walk with me.” She pulled back, cocking her head to one side slightly, and observing the Doctor with those wide, golden eyes. She linked their arms, before the Doctor had time to respond. “One last visit, and then you leave this place for good. Before it destroys you.”

“One last visit.” It was almost a plea. The TARDIS set off walking, heading back towards Bill Pott’s grave. She had always known where the Doctor needed to go.

“Is she the Iridescent one?”

“The Iridescent one?”

“With the hair and the big smile.”

“Bill.” The Doctor corrected. The look the TARDIS gave her showed she didn’t much agree.

“Names are funny, aren’t they? They’re so small. Too small, and people are so- Oh what am I thinking?“ She made a wild gesture with her free hand. The Doctor laughed.

“Bigger on the inside?”

“Bigger on the inside! Yes, exactly! Names are small and people are bigger on the inside.”

“So Bill was Iridescent?”

“ _Is_ Iridescent.”

“You never were good with tenses.”

“Stop mourning people who aren’t dead. It doesn’t suit you.” She sounded frustrated, getting that scolding, motherly tone she’d used so often on House back. If her words had been different, the Doctor might have told her to stop acting like her mother.

“She died. Bill was turned into a cyberman, and then she died.”

“And then Ripple shows up and left with her.” The Doctor shot her a confused look, and the TARDIS had the nerve to look exasperated. “Ripple with the stars in her eyes. They leave together, and- things. Oh, I don’t know. Whatever it is they do when they leave.”

“She lived?”

“In a sense.”

The Doctor’s hearts leapt at that one. She wanted to keep asking questions, but the TARDIS was already moving them on, She watched the brunette stoop slightly once they reached River’s grave, murmuring something she couldn’t hear to the stone and pressing a kiss to the top of it. The golden energy behind the letters glowed brighter for a moment, before settling back to the state it’d been in before. They took a long route around the graveyard, with the TARDIS often talking about old memories, while her Doctor stayed mostly silent, allowing herself to be led around.

They passed the poppy spattered grave, and the TARDIS pulled a face. “Schadenfreude.”

“What?”

She indicated the grave again, still looking rather distasteful. “Schadenfreude.” She repeated.

This time she actually did laugh. “You’ve never forgiven him for the paradox machine thing?”

“You wouldn’t either if it’d been you.” She grumbled, arms crossed over her chest. “I don’t like this version of him.”

“You have different names for different versions, then? What’s this version of me?” The Doctor looked almost excited, her childish curiosity taking her out of the moment just long enough to let her forget where she was.

The TARDIS leaned closer, a slight smirk playing across her lips.

“Thief.”

Disappointed, the Doctor questioned her on it. “So the Master gets different names for different versions and I don’t?”

“No matter the face you’re always my thief, and I’m always yours.” A bell chimed in the old clock tower. “And now, Thief, I think it’s time you woke up.”

“Already? We didn’t finish yet.” There were still dozens of graves without flowers.

“You’re not helping them by torturing yourself. None of them would want you to do that.”

“I’m not torturing myself, I’m-“

The brunette shut her up with a kiss- still a little too rough, but not the overly excited mess of teeth it had been the last time the TARDIS had a body. Maybe it was because this one was part of the Doctor’s imagination too, so she had a little more control over how it behaved, even if her ship was controlling it.

“Quiet. Oh, no. You did quiet already. Wrong order, sorry, it’s- talking is confusing. Promise me you won’t come back here. Not yet, not like you have been.”

“I can’t just not-“

“See! Now quiet.” She made a vague gesture at the Doctor for her to hush. “No more mourning the living, and no more blaming yourself for deaths that never happened, okay?”

“But-“

“Okay?”

“Okay.” She pulled back ever so slightly, still hodling tigjtly to the Doctor’s hands. “So, wake up and let me take you somewhere wonderful.”

“Brilliant.”

“And, who knows. I do like the body. Maybe your dreams tomorrow could take us somewhere a little more alive?”

“You’re going to keep coming back?”

The TARDIS laughed.

“Oh my silly thief. I’m never going to leave.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title comes from When Your Feed Don't Touch the Ground from Finding Neverland.
> 
> When did life become this place of maddness?  
> Drifting on an empty sea of waves of sadness  
> I make believe I'm in control  
> And dream it wasn't all my fault. 
> 
> Chapter title playlist can be found here: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5CUnm7fntJlE2mlfQv4jvJ?si=8_tTLDsDRYyC2t9tyOUPDA


	16. Thasmin: Sunflower of Yorkshire.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yaz talks to Sonya about her crush on the Doctor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly I have food poisoning so I'm probably not in the best state to be writing right now, but I didn't want to miss a day. This is such a mess. I'm sorry.

Day Seventeen  
Ship: Thirteen/Yasmin Khan  
Theme: Sunflowers

“So why won’t you give me his number?”

“I’m not havin’ this conversation with you again.”

Yaz started walking a little quicker with the trolly, partly to avoid having to hear any more sulking from Sonya about her not giving over Ryan’s number, and partly to avoid having her throw more stuff in that wasn’t on the list, and that Yaz was going to wind up paying for. She was starting to remember why she was usually so opposed to bringing her little sister along on shopping trips.

“I like him.”

“I’m sure you do. I don’t need you flirtin’ with my mates and makin’ things awkward.”

“When do I ever make things awkward for you?” Sonya asked, rushing slightly to catch up.

Yaz just gave her a look.

“Do you want a list?”

“Oh come on. Gimme a real reason. Do you want him for yourself? I thought he’d be a bit young for you.“ Yaz’s attention was briefly caught by her sister grabbing the edge of the trolly and tossing something inside, throwing her off balance with it. She wasn’t fast enough to see what she was going to end up paying for now.

“Me and Ryan? No way. He’s my friend, that’s all.” It took her a moment or so to process the rest of what Sonya had said. “Oi! What’s that meant to mean anyway? Too young for me. We’re the same age, give or take. Actually he’s three months older if you’re countin’”

“Well yeah but your age isn’t exactly your type is it?” She raised a knowing eyebrow at her, offering a slight smirk before taking off down the aisle, homing in magpie-like on whatever else she’d decided to pick up.

By the time she’d caught up she was throwing a pack of mini rolls into the mess they’d already got, though once she’d turned back around Yaz quickly returned them to the shelf.

“Hey! I wanted them!”

“Then pay for ‘m yoursen.” Yaz glanced at the list, very much wanting this trip to be over. “And what did you mean? About my time?”

“Oh come on. Your weird blonde girlfriend you’ve been draggin’ around that mum hates-“

“Mum doesn’t hate her!” Yaz suddenly sounded defensive. “And she’s _not_ my girlfriend.”

That, apparently, was a mistake based on the amused look Sonya gave her, raising her hands in mock-surrender.

“Whatever you say.” She paused for a moment, before adding, “Mum totally does hate her, though.” Right when Yasmin had begun pushing the trolly away. “Think it’s the age gap. And the fact she won’t tell us her proper name. And the fact she’s a right weiro.”

“Ugh. Can we please go back to talkin’ about your mess of a love life now?”

“Are you gonna give me your mate’s number?”

“No.”

“Then no. Let’s keep talking about your whole MILF thing. It’s funny.”

Yaz pulled a face at that, spluttering slightly as she tried to think of a retort, and suddenly becoming very interested in milk pricing. In the end she turned around to face her giggling sister, raising a hand and making a vague, frustrated gesture in her direction. “No. Just. Stop. No. Don’t say _that_.” She opened her hand in mid air, and then squeezed it into a fist again, taking a breath, and turning around to grab the trolly again. The packet of mini rolls were sitting on the top again. She removed them. “No.”

“Ooh, that one hit a nerve. How old is she, anyway?”

Yaz pointedly ignored that question. In reality, she didn’t even know the answer- the closest she could really get would have been ‘a lot older than she looks’, but that _really_ didn’t seem like it was going to help matters.

“She’s gotta be over thirty right?” Yaz made a noncommittal noise which Sonya seemed to take for agreement. “So she’s got at least ten years on you. Is this just you tryin’ to wind mum up?”

“Is what me tryin’ to wind mum up?” Playing dumb probably seemed like a better option here.

“You datin’ a thirty-sometat’ year old.”

“I’m not datin’ the Doctor.” She cut her off quickly. They’d almost completely stopped moving through the aisles, now, Yaz under the pretence of fiddling with the list, and Sonya trying rather unsubtly to slip the mini rolls back into the trolly. Yaz took them out again and stuffed them onto the nearest shelf. She felt a little bad, but heading all the way back to the right department would have prolonged the time she had to spend being interrogated by Sonya, which was definitely not her top priority. “We’re just, mates.”

“Sure you are. Mum’s gonna be fumin’ when she finds out y’know.”

“There’s nothin’ to find out! We’re mates, that’s all.”

“What, like properly?” Sonya looked a little caught off guard by that one, and then even more put out. “Aw. Thought I was gonna get to be golden child for once when you finally got caught. So you just fancy her then?”

“I don’t fancy her.” Yaz said, staring a little too intently at the display of soup tins, as if the decision whether to get own brand or Heinz was what she was actually focused on. She heard something being dropped into the trolly behind her but didn’t have the energy to argue it.

“Yeah, you definitely do, though.”

“Do not.” Yaz was well aware she sounded like a petulant child, but then again, Sonya did most of the time.

“Why haven’t you asked her out yet?”

Yaz fumbled the cans she was holding at the question, and dropped them into the trolly with a little more force than necessary, flinching at the clatter of metal on metal. She was lucky, really- she’d just barely managed to miss hitting the eggs.

“Who says I wanna ask her out?”

“Me. Well, me, and your face whenever she’s round. You make proper moon-eyes at her.”

Yaz felt her face burning, glancing over at Sonya with a vaguely annoyed look, though she couldn’t quite manage any actual animosity. It wasn’t as though she was _wrong_ , just inconveniently observant.

“…I don’t think she feels the same.” She eventually admitted, her jaw slightly clenched. It felt odd to admit it out loud after so long refusing to mention it- it wasn’t as though Sonya was the first to question her relationship with the Time Lord, after all. Ryan had been bugging her about it for _months_.

“Cause of the whole age gap thing?”

“Maybe.” Yaz remarked. She had a feeling that the species gap was more of the issue there, but that probably wasn’t the thing to blurt out in the middle of Morrison’s. “I mean… She’s just amazing. I know she seems a little weird-“ That had to be the understatement of the year, “But once you get to know her? Like properly get to know her? She’s not like anyone else I’ve ever met.”

“Oh my god, you sap. Come on.” Before Yaz could protest Sonya had grabbed the front of the trolly and started pulling it rather clumsily through the aisles back towards the front of the shop. It was all Yaz could do to hold it steady enough not to knock anything over.

“What’re you doing?”

“Flowers are at the front.”

“Oh no way. Mum said not to let you buy any more plants cause they end up dead in a month and we’ve already got fourteen plant-pots under the sink.”

Sonya rolled her eyes, and Yaz gave in, letting herself be dragged along. It was probably easier than arguing at this point. “Your weird mate likes you, so she probably likes all this sappy shit-“

“Wait hang on-“

“So get her some flowers and go ask her out.”

“I’m not gonna just-“ Yaz tried again, only to be shushed by her sister.

“Yes you are. Come on, it’s embarassin’ at this point.”

Yaz took a breath, biting her lip. She was already getting the feeling that if she didn’t agree to go through with this she’d have to keep the Doctor away from her flat to stop Sonya doing it for her.

“You’re not gonna drop this, are you?” She picked up a bunch of gerberas, looking them over.

“Nope.” Sonya took the gerberas from her hands, looking them over, before pulling a face and setting them back down. She picked up a bunch of large sunflowers instead. “Go for these ones.”

“Why those?”

“They’re huge and yellow. She gives off that kind of vibe.”

Yaz looked at them for a long moment, and then glanced up at Sonya. Maybe she was right- for once. “…Fine.” She placed them into the kart on top of the mini rolls that had somehow snuck their way back in, before setting off in the direction of the tills.

“Great.” Sonya paused for a long moment, walking behind her. “So…” She drew the word out like she always did when she wanted something. “When you pull you’re gonna give me your mate’s number as a thank you, right?”

Yaz groaned. It seemed like no matter how much her life was changing now, her little sister never would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title comes from Sunflower from Calender Girls. (Not the best fit, but I couldn't resist)
> 
> Sunflower of Yorkshire.  
> A woman of Yorkshire.  
> By god she amazes in all of her phases.  
> Whenever there is sunlight in the sky,  
> Just watch her rise.
> 
> Chapter title playlist can be found here: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5CUnm7fntJlE2mlfQv4jvJ?si=8_tTLDsDRYyC2t9tyOUPDA


	17. Soufflaker: Our Eyes Will Adjust.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Human AU. Clara isn't the biggest fan of her neighbour, but when the power shorts out who else is she going to ask for help?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for another kind of meh chapter- I just didn't have any ideas for this! I promise I have something better planned for tomorrow.

**Day Eighteen**   
**Theme: Electricity**   
**Ship: Clara Oswald/Thirteen**

If there was something which Clara really didn’t want to have to do, it was talk to Jane Smith. In fact, if given the chance, she’d like to avoid seeing her entirely. She was loud, often arrogant, and chaotic, and no matter what context they ran into one another she tested Clara’s patience. It was quite the feat, really, to say how much of her day she spent trying to manage a class of bored teenagers.

Of course, between working at the same school and Jane living in the flat next door to hers, running into one another was sort of inevitable- no matter how much she tried to avoid it. Irritatingly, Ashildr was usually pretty quick to point out that all of her complaining about Jane sounded suspiciously like a fourteen year old trying to cover up a crush- usually right before making a joke about them having _chemistry_ , but Ashildr didn’t know what she was talking about. Clara wasn’t the kind of woman to go around crushing on irritating Chemistry teachers with no self-control- no matter how pretty they looked when they smiled.

It was already past ten when the power went out, prompting a string of profanities from her flatmate, who had, based on the muttering about ‘stupid electric showers’ at least, been half way through washing her hair. Clara meanwhile was at least still dressed, though she did have to fumble for her (of course) half-dead phone so she could turn the torch on, almost knocking her tea onto a stack of marked homework in the process.

She grabbed an actual torch, and made her way to the bathroom door, knocking to ask, “You alright in there?”

“Yeah, I’m fine just- Is it the whole building?”

Clara glanced back towards the entrance to the flat, shrugging as though Ashildr could actually see her. “Not sure. Haven’t heard anything- might be a circuit? I can go check.”

“Ask next door, first.” The response came a little too quickly.

“I know how to check a fuse box!” Clara muttered, a little defensive.

“You didn’t last time!”

“I have- I apologised for last time.” She insisted, though the wind was taken out of her sails a little. “I can google it?”

“The wifi is out.”

“I’ll-“

“Go ask next door?”

There was a moment or so of silence before Clara rather grumpily conceded. “I’ll go ask next door.”

“Can you leave a torch outside? I haven’t got my phone.” Ashildr asked, seemingly as an afterthought. Clara sighed, placing hers down, and going back to using the light on her torch. At least there was enough light outside their windows that she wasn’t likely to trip over the cat.

She knocked on the door of 40B with an air of resignation, leaning slightly on the doorframe and keeping her phone light pointed downwards so she wouldn’t blind whoever came to the door.

“Yaz?” She asked, when it didn’t open right away. Annoyingly, when she opened the door she got a good look at messy blonde hair, an obnoxiously bright t-shirt, and- reading glasses? Since when did Jane wear reading glasses. They looked cuter on her than they had any right to. The room behind her seemed to be lit by a frankly ridiculous number of candles in variously sized jars. It seemed like a bit of a fire-hazard, honestly, especially given how messy Jane’s workspace was at the school- she doubted her flat would be much better.

“Hi- Oh. Uh.” Jane stepped back, clearly a little flustered. “You were looking for Yaz? She’s at work. Late shift ‘n all that.

Clara blinked a few times. “You have glasses?” She asked rather stupidly, before her brain caught up. She at least had the good sense to look sheepish.

Jane took them off a little too quickly, setting them down on the sideboard. “I usually wear contacts but I didn’t want to end up pokin’ an eye or summat out with the power-“

“Oh. Yeah, I get it. So is yours out too?” She asked. Another stupid question.

“Oh no I just like sittin’ in the dark.” Jane raised an eyebrow.

“Right. Yeah. Obviously- just wanted to know if it was the whole building or just us.”

“I thought it was just us too.” She glanced out into the hallway behind Clara, seeing the motion activated lights out there weren’t working either. “I could go down to the cellar and have a look?”

“Are you allowed to do that?”

Jane shrugged. “Probably not, but it’ll be hours before management bother comin’ out to check- probably mornin’ by now. It’s worth a try.”

Clara glanced at her. This disregard for the rules was usually one of the things which frustrated her a little about Jane- Clara liked things to be neat and ordered a little too much to deal with Jane’s chaotic approach, but in this kind of situation she could see how the act first ask questions later style of things could be helpful- she certainly didn’t want to have to sit in the dark all night. If nothing else she’d left her work later than normal, and finishing marking fifty essays by torchlight wasn’t exactly top of her to-do list.

Eventually, she nodded, offering Jane a little smile. It might not have been the way she’d have handled things, but she could appreciate it. “Alright, sounds good.”

The blonde at least had the good sense to blow her candles out and grab an oversized grey coat off of a nearby chair, before heading out into the hall, grabbing Clara’s free hand and dragging her over towards the stairs.

“Wait why am I coming too?”

“Because you’ve got the torch.” Jane said, as though it was the most obvious answer in the world.

It took them a little longer than they usually would have to get down the stairs, both holding onto each other despite their not-quite-cordial relationship so that they could avoid tripping in the dark, cramped space. For the most part, people in the building tended to use the lifts, so they weren’t exactly as well-maintained as the rest of the structure- with peeling paint and severely faded emergency signs. Of course, when they finally reached the lower ground level, the room with the electrics in was padlocked.

Jane picked the heavy lock up, looking it over with a frown. “I could get it open-“ She mused, and part of Clara wanted to tell her to do it, but she could already sense something else hanging at the end of Jane’s sentence.

“But?”

“ _But_ they got really grumpy about it last time.”

Clara wasn’t sure she wanted to ask about what happened last time.

“So that’s probably a no on the power coming back on tonight?”

“That’s a no.”

“Right. Brilliant.” Clara let out a frustrated little whine she wasn’t particularly proud of.

Clara was fairly glad of the darkness, changing the angle of the torch as subtly as she could to hide how red her face had become. It wasn’t the kind of offer she’d have usually taken but- well. Jane was being nice, and she certainly seemed calmer than usual- not to mention having actual lights would make work go a lot quicker. She was suddenly aware of how close she’d gotten to Jane while they’d been checking the lock, shuffling back a few steps to try and out some distance between them.

“Sorry.” She said quickly. “Didn’t mean to-“

“Don’t worry about it.”

“I just-“

“Yeah.”

A few beats of awkward silence hung in the air between them, before Clara reached out, taking Jane’s hand somewhat awkwardly so they could make their way back to the stairs using her torch. She tried rather hard not to think about how pretty Jane looked in the moonlight streaming in through the windows.

“You had plans for tonight?” Jane asked, sounding surprisingly compassionate about the whole thing.

“Does marking count as plans?”

Jane shrugged and after a half-beat or so of awkward silence. “I have some tests to get through too. There’s a half-decent café around the corner? The owner probably wouldn’t complain about us taking over a booth…”

Clara bit her lip. It wasn’t the kind of offer she would usually have accepted, but Jane was being sweet and significantly quieter than usual, and- well. Light would certainly make her job easier.

“Yeah. Yeah that sounds nice.” she nodded.

Once they reached the reception, Jane guided Clara towards the doors and out into the street, beginning to lead the way.

If either of them noticed that they hadn’t collected their work, they didn’t mention it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title comes from Light My Candle from Rent.
> 
> That was my last match  
> Our eyes will adjust  
> Thank god for the moon
> 
> Chapter title playlist can be found here: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5CUnm7fntJlE2mlfQv4jvJ?si=8_tTLDsDRYyC2t9tyOUPDA


	18. Thasmin: Love is Always Good.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yaz finds an old ring. The Doctor (with a nudge from the TARDIS) opens up a little more about her past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is late- it ended up being about three times the length I'd originally planned, and even then I had to cut it earlier than I'd wanted just so I still had half a chance of getting Day Twenty out on time. 
> 
> TW for mentions of canon character death.

**Day Nineteen  
Theme: Gold  
Ship: Thirteen/Yasmin Khan  
Also mentioned: (Current) Doctor/TARDIS, (Past) Doctor/Rose Tyler, (Past) Doctor Song, (Past) Whoffle, and (Past) Thoschei**

It was pretty rare for Yaz to be alone in the TARDIS console room, even since Ryan and Graham’s departure. It wasn’t as though the Doctor didn’t trust her, she knew that, it was just very much the Doctor’s space- if they were on board, and weren’t doing specific, it was the place she gravitated towards. If Yaz was a more jealous woman she might have found some issue with the way her girlfriend talked to the spaceship, but honestly it was endearing, at least to her.

It was odd, then, to be in that familiar room, under the warm yellowish glow, without a certain blonde chatting at her, or the familiar sounds of her tinkering away below the console. She found she really missed it though, sitting on the stairs and glancing at the doorway, waiting for her to come bursting back through.

The little glint of gold wouldn’t normally have caught her eye, but those yellowish lights shone a little brighter in that spot than they usually would have done. She’d gotten used to the TARDIS trying to point these kinds of things out to her by now. Yaz hesitated for a moment before moving over to pick the ring up, turning it over a few times in her fingers. She sort of doubted it was the Doctor’s, it was a man’s, for a start (and no matter how many times that the Doctor mentioned that she hadn’t always looked the way she did now, it was still a very tricky concept for Yaz to accept), and while it was clearly non-human in origin, so she could rule out it being Graham’s, it looked distinctly like a wedding band. She ran her thumb over the greenish gemstone, which was like nothing she’d ever seen on earth, and examined the twin golden bands, before the sound of footsteps in the corridor distracted her.

The Doctor came bounding over to her, looking brighter than she had in days. There’d been good days and bad days since Ryan and Graham had left, and it was clear that she was still hiding a lot, but she did slowly seem to be brightening, bit by bit. She still hadn’t opened up as much as Yaz would have liked, but there were less of those days where her voice was painfully full of that false cheeriness which worried her even more than the Doctor’s old morose silences.

“Oh, you’re up already! Brilliant! I’ve got a great plan for today, how’d you feel about the beach? I haven’t been to Space Florida in _ages_. You’ll love it- automatic sand!”

The Doctor moved right past her in her excitement, moving to start at the controls, before seeming to realise what she’d done, and moving back over. She dropped down next to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, and pressing a kiss to her cheek. Yaz smiled despite herself.

Definitely a good day.

As dark as the Doctor’s bad days could be, it was ones like this where her smiles were genuine and her movements were free, that Yaz really got a glimpse of who she’d been before. Before Gallifrey and before the Master, but also before they’d met. The Doctor might not speak about her past too much, but now and then Yaz would catch her looking wistfully at a photograph, or she’d let something slip, and it wasn’t hard to see that she’d been through a lot in the years before she’d (literally) fallen into their lives.

She relished the good days, striving to make sure as many of their days as could be good, were. She closed her hand around the ring, hiding it from view, and leaning into the blonde’s side with a little smile for the moment it lasted, before watching the Doctor running back to the controls, her excitement palpable.

Yaz pocketed the ring. This wasn’t the time to risk throwing the Doctor back into the dark place.

Rare as alone time in the console room usually was, Yaz managed to grab another few minutes of it later on that same day. The Doctor had disappeared off to the showers to try and get the frankly ridiculous amount of sand out of her hair, but being as she’d had the good sense to tie hers up and avoid sticking her head under the water, Yaz hadn’t taken half as long to get cleaned up, now clad in soft pyjamas with her still damp hair braided over one shoulder.

That little gold ring had felt heavy all day- zipped into her inside pocket, close to her heart. She’d planned on leaving it behind, but something about it was hard to let go of; she was oddly terrified of losing it, so it seemed easier to keep it where she could keep checking it was safe.

Once she got back to the console room, the Doctor still nowhere to be seen, Yaz stepped up to the controls, glancing dubiously at the crystal column. It was still an odd concept, trying to accept the TARDIS being alive, but maybe she could help? And if not- well at least nobody was there to see her talking to a spaceship.

She dug the ring out, setting it down on a little flat plate on the console she’d seen the Doctor use to test things before, placing a hand tentatively against the column.

“Do you know who’s this is?” she asked, trying to ignore how stupid she felt. Maybe this was how her father felt trying to talk to the Alexa? This was just technology far beyond her comfort zone.

She jerked her hand back at the odd, pulsing hum that escaped the ship, though whatever she’d done seemed to have worked. She glanced up a moment or so later to see a man standing on the other side of the console room, wearing sunglasses, a long black coat, and an oddly familiar smile. She panicked for a moment, and was just about to call the Doctor back, when she noticed him flickering slightly at the edges.

“So you’re a hologram or summet, right?” She asked. The figure didn’t respond. Pausing briefly, Yaz leant forwards to try and touch the man’s hand, but passed straight through. As it did, she noticed the ring on his hand, and actually managed a smile. Right. She’d not fully expected that to work. “So you’re a friend of hers?” Again, no response. She leant over- and honestly she could see how this man and the Doctor would get along- the wild white hair, plaid trousers, and odd mix of layered hoodies and jumpers under the magician-esque coat were enough to signal that they at least had a similarly bizarre sense of style.

Yaz tried to ignore the bizarre pang of jealousy she felt looking at him. She wasn’t usually a jealous person, but there was a part of her, deep down, that worried maybe this was an ex or something. Why else would the Doctor have his ring? Of course, there were a million innocent explanations, but the weightier ones still pressed in on her.

She hadn’t even noticed the Doctor’s footsteps coming back down the corridor; then again, she was used to the Doctor running around in her heavy boots, she hadn’t considered that she wasn’t used to listening out for the muffled sounds of her padding around in fluffy socks. Still, she relaxed into it quickly when a pair of arms curled around her waist and the slight tickle of wet hair against her neck as the Doctor rested her chin onto her shoulder.

Yaz smiled and leant back into the touch, savouring the moment; it was rare for the Doctor to be this physically affectionate, except on her best days. That made it even harder when she felt the blonde stiffen behind her as she spotted the projection on the other side of the console.

“What-“ She pulled back away from Yaz, moving quickly to try and shut off the image. The TARDIS, evidently, wasn’t cooperating, because if anything the man standing opposite them looked more solid than ever. “Why are you showing that?”

“I asked her to.” Yaz cut in quickly, catching the Doctor’s hand before she could start fussing with the controls looking for a fault. “I found-“ She gestured vaguely to where the ring was still sitting, “on the floor, and I asked her who’s it was. Do you know him?”

The Doctor glanced at the plate, and though it was hard to see her face at this angle, Yaz heard her suck in a hiss of air and let it go all in one shaky breath. It sounded pained, and didn’t help the weight settling in her stomach.

“Do you know him?” Yaz asked, though it felt like a painfully stupid question based on the reaction he’d elicited.

“He’s me.” The Doctor replied, that false-lightness which had been blissfully absent from her voice all day back in full force now, “Well, was me. The me before this me. Told you I used to be a white-haired Scotsman.”

Well. It certainly explained the clothes, as well as why his smile seemed so painfully familiar, though it was tricky to process that all those jokes weren’t _actually_ jokes. Yaz swallowed, looking over at him with a renewed sense of interest.

“How can that be you?” She eventually asked, trying not to focus on how not-okay the Doctor sounded. There wasn’t much she could do about it until she knew what was actually upsetting her. “He’s older than you.”

The Doctor laughed, and while it didn’t sound entirely hollow, there was certainly an edge of something darker behind it.

“He’s not. Not really- he just looks it. I’ve had a lot of faces- some of them were older than this one, some of them were younger.”

Clearly trying to be helpful, the TARDIS projected another man beside the first- a young man with a warm smile, wearing a bow-tie and a tweed jacket.

“That’s you too?”

Yaz glanced at the Doctor again, who nodded, though she gave the crystal jutting from the celling a look. “Are you really determined to show her all of them, or can we quit now before we get to Bowl-Cut and Scarfy?”

The TARDIS whirred at her, but no more projections appeared. Yaz tried not to let her disappointment show- she was certainly enjoying this glimpse into her past, and she would hardly complain about getting to see more of her former faces, but not if the Doctor didn’t want her to. She shifted over to the plate, picking up the ring, and both projections stuttered out.

“So, uh-“ She held it out. “I guess this is yours?” The Doctor took it, holding the tiny golden object as though it was infinitely precious to her. Yaz wasn’t sure she wanted to ask the story behind it- but at the same time, she had to know.

“I thought I lost it.” The Doctor said, before she even had the chance. She flexed the fingers of the hand not holding onto it. “Smaller hands, this time around- it fell off, and then everything went wrong and I fell out and I couldn’t find the TARDIS. I thought it got thrown out when I did. She’d have been so _annoyed_.”

There was that pit in her stomach again. Yaz moved a little closer, placing what she hoped was a comforting hand on her back. She didn’t flinch or move away, which was probably a good sign, given what she was going to ask next.

“Were you married, Doctor?”

The Doctor took a breath. She looked like she was about to make an excuse to avoid the question, like usual, but instead her shoulders just slumped. She looked defeated.

“A few times.”

“To who?”

There was a faint whining from the console, and the Doctor sighed. “Yeah, it’s okay. Show her.” She placed a hand on the edge of the console, shutting her eyes for a moment, “Don’t go too far back though, okay? Nobody from too long ago.”

When she looked up she was more than a little thrown off by the sheer number of women standing in front of her. Of course, they were all just projections too, but it was hard not to feel a little insecure. Scanning along the line, she could count six. Rather disconcertingly, she spotted herself on the end.

“Why am I there, we’re not-“ She sounded flustered, and the Doctor quickly took one of her hands to steady her.

“Don’t worry about it, okay? I was only properly married to two of them, it’s just that- My people aren’t really around anymore, most of our wedding traditions died out a long time ago. The TARDIS doesn’t really know what to categorise as a proper marriage anymore, so she just goes with- with the people I’ve loved the most- in that sense, at least.”

Yaz couldn’t help herself at that, pulling her into a very tight hug, and burying her face in the other woman’s shoulder. It might have been an odd sentiment, really- at least for most people- knowing that your partner had loved so many others just as deeply beforehand, but at the same time there was something about knowing that in however long the Doctor had lived she was one of the people she’d loved the most that sparked a warm glow in her chest. The blonde seemed to relax slightly, looking relieved. She’d probably been worried Yaz was about to get jealous.

“Can I…?” She gestured at the women, and the Doctor nodded.

“If you want to.”

After another moment or so, she pulled back, stepping over to the first to get a better look at her. She was beautiful, though if Yaz was being honest she’d always had a thing for blondes. Still, it wasn’t hard to see why the Doctor would have fallen for her, with her pretty brown eyes and kind smile. She was human- or at least, her clothes looked human, if a little 2000s. Looking across the line she couldn’t help but concede that maybe the Doctor had a type too, in that regard. All bar two of the women seemed to be dressed in at least somewhat-modern Earth clothing.

“Who was she?”

“Rose Tyler. She was- _is_ fantastic.” The Doctor wore a fond smile as she looked across at the image, though her eyes betrayed sadness. “I was a mess when I met her. All anger and spite. I don’t think I’d be alive now if she hadn’t found me when she did.” There was a moment of quiet, before she spoke again, sounding a little strained. “She’s not… I lost her, but she’s- She’s safe. Parallel universe. It’s hard to get word, but stuff slips through the cracks, occasionally. She’s happily married, now. They have a little boy.”

“Do you miss her?”

“All the time, but she’s safe and happy, and that’s all I wanted for her, in the end.”

“And this is the Rose Jack mentioned, right?” When the Doctor nodded, she asked. “So she’s human, then? She’s not like you?”

“She’s human. Met her in London in 2005. She was workin’ in a shop. Saved my life.”

The projection flickered out, seemingly a push from the TARDIS to move on. When the Doctor glanced at the next projection, her face turned pink, and she shot the column a look.

“Yeah, we’re not doin’ this.”

Yaz quickly turned to face whoever the Doctor seemed embarrassed about. She couldn’t really see why. She was a tall brunette, with her hair piled up in a complicated, if slightly messy style, wearing an odd blue dress that looked as though it’d been made from pieces of a dozen others, and had such an odd design that she couldn’t tell whether it was from the 1800s, or was just a very old steampunk recreation. She was certainly very pretty, and had that wry kind of smile that Yaz could see the Doctor falling for.

“Who is she?”

“She’s her,” The Doctor gestured to one of the crystals. “She’s tryin’ to embarrass me.”

Yaz looked back at the woman, noting the odd gold colour of her eyes. There was just no way.

“She’s… the TARDIS?” She raised an eyebrow.

“Well- it’s. Long story. She was human, once, for a while. She’s just teasin’ me it’s not.” The Doctor shot another flustered look at the console. “I mean, I love her. Course I do, but it’s not like _that_. Just-“ She gestured wildly, clearly trying to think of the right words. “I don’t have a lot of constants.” She eventually seemed to settle on. “Life like mine- always runnin’ around, always new people, always new faces. She’s- she’s just always been here for me.”

It was a strangely intimate confession even compared to the rest of this conversation, but thankfully Yaz was spared having to think of a comment she could make tactfully by the happy little chirping noise coming from the console. The way the Doctor’s face lit up at the sound made Yaz smile too- it was hardly conventional, but she was happy that the Doctor had someone there for her- even it that someone was her sentient rocket ship.

The projection of the odd not-quite-victorian woman faded away, leaving them to move onto the next.

“River Song.” The Doctor explained a little too quickly, turning the ring over in her fingers rather than actually looking up at the woman. “My wife.”

Yaz wasn’t entirely sure what to say. Another blonde, and a little older than the first, but she suspected that kind of thing didn’t matter much to the Doctor. She had a certain air about her- similar to that one that clung to the Doctor herself- that suggested she brought trouble along with her. The gun holstered at her hip certainly wasn’t helping with that image.

“She has a gun. You hate guns.”

The Doctor gave a somewhat sheepish smile. “I made an exception.”

Yaz actually laughed. “Oh you _liked_ it. You’re like one of those people online who’s really into girls with swords.”

“…I’m feelin’ very called out right now.”

“Are you gonna tell me the story then?”

“It’s a long one. I could write a book- she _did_ write a book. A fair few, actually- they’re in the library, somewhere. Melody Malone-“ She grinned. “Yowzah. Involves me technically meeting her before she was actually born- time travel and all that- being best friends with her mum, zombie monks, and an apollo astronaut in a lake. Oh, and I was accidentally the stripper at her dad’s stag. I was a bloke back then- someone did explain what the big cake was actually for afterwards.” The Doctor was smiling now, genuinely, rather than it seeming forced. There had to be a lot of happy memories buried in all the nonsense.

Yaz looked at her, nodding along as though she was trying to process. “…I need to read that book.”

“It’s a good one. We had centuries. I mean, we’re both time travellers, so we didn’t always meet in the right order, but still. Amazing times.” She paused, before adding, “She’s gone now, of course. A long time ago. Died saving thousands of strangers. She was an amazing woman.”

Yaz didn’t say anything, but wrapped an arm around her almost protectively as the next hologram flickered out. She knew she couldn’t make remembering better, but if the Doctor was willing to share- if she could understand better, maybe she could be more help in the future.

“Clara.”

“What?”

The Doctor nodded at the next woman, a petite brunette who looked just as human as Rose had.

“Clara Oswald. My Impossible Girl. Another long story. I don’t remember most of it- I just know I loved her very much, and she was one of the bravest people I ever knew. She’s still out there, somewhere, but we can’t see each other again. Something to do with ancient prophecies and angry people with too much power. They wiped my memory.”

“That’s horrible. Who gets to make choices like that?”

“Time Lords.” The Doctor’s face darkened briefly, before she seemed to force it back to neutrality.

Yaz decided not to push her luck by asking.

Clara’s hologram stammered slightly as it went out.

“What about her?”

Yaz didn’t move until the Doctor did, keeping an arm around her waist. The way that she was looking at this one gave her a very bad feeling. Her expression when she looked at the others was always close to adoration, if tinged with sadness in some cases. This one though? She just looked hurt. Yaz had to admit that looking at this woman gave her a sense of trouble, similar to how she’d felt with River, though this felt a little more sinister.

“Missy. Well-“ The Doctor shook her head. She looked as though she was debating what to say- how much to reveal. I was a look that Yaz was far too used to by now. “She went by Missy when she looked like this, at least.” The Doctor glanced at the console. “I said- You know this isn’t what I meant.” The console chirped happily at her again.

“When she looked like this? She’s like you then? A Time Lord?” The words still felt unfamiliar on Yaz’s lips, predominantly because of how the Doctor flinched whenever they were used- it made her want to avoid them.

“She- they.” The Doctor shook her head. “Yes.” There was a slight pause before some of the stiffness in her posture seemed to relax slightly, as though she’d given something up. “You met.” Yaz frowned slightly, before she clarified. “Missy. Short for Mistress.”

Her eyes widened, as she thought back to everything that had happened on that plane. Everything O had done to them- and then Gallifrey, and whatever he’d done to so thoroughly break the Doctor. She suddenly felt angry, angrier than she’d been in a long time, not on her own account, but angry for the woman she loved who seemed to have been put through so much by one of the people she, by her own admission, had loved most.

“He’s your _ex_?”

“It’s not that simple.”

“He’s your ex and he hurt you!”

“It’s another long story- the _longest_ story. He’s my oldest friend. We grew up together. We were kids together, went right through the a- through school. We were each other’s first- everything, really. Saw each other through a lot of different faces.” She gestured vaguely over to where her past selves had stood earlier. “This was the last version of him I was _really_ close to.” She waved a hand through the projected image, clearly not wanting to think about this anymore. The TARDIS, seeming to get the hint, turned that one off.

“I still don’t like him.” Yaz insisted stubbornly.

The Doctor managed a little smile. “Not a lot of people do.”

There was only one image left, and Yaz found herself being guided over to stand in front of it, as though she’d never seen an image of herself before.

“This one is really special. This is Yasmin Khan, and she’s brilliant.” Yaz opened her mouth to speak, but the Doctor wasn’t done yet. “I won’t tell you how I met her- it’s a long story, because the best ones always are- but I will say that I’ve seen her do so many amazing things. She’s one of the most brilliant women in the Universe, she’s more than I deserve most days, and I’m head over heels in love with her.”

“Doctor-“

The Doctor pulled away, moving to stand right in front of her. The last of the images flickered out. She took Yaz’s hands gently.

“I mean it. I don’t know how long we’ve got, or how our story ends, but I know that I wanna be with you for every minute you’ll have me.”

“And all of them?” She glanced at where the figures had been, finally letting her insecurity show. “How do you move on from people like them?”

She felt one of her hands being guided to sit in the centre of the Doctor’s chest, feeling the faint flutters of twin heartbeats against her fingertips. “Two hearts. I carry them with me. It hurts, it always does, but hurtin; is how you know you’re really livin’. If you’ve got nothing worth hurtin’ over you’ve got nothing worth livin’ for. Never regret lovin’ just because it hurts in the end.”

Yaz stared at the Doctor for a long moment, trying to think what to say. There was nothing she could say. Instead, she let her hand fall away, only to throw her arms around the Doctor’s neck, pulling her close. It wasn’t particularly sweet- it was quick, and a little too tight, and a little too desperate, but from the way that the Doctor’s arms curled around her waist just as tight it was what they both needed.

Because the Doctor was right- in all likelihoods, their story would be a short one. They’d almost lost each other too many times to be under any delusions of being together forever, but if Yaz knew one thing, it was that she wouldn’t let go of this feeling without a fight.

Their story couldn’t last forever- and maybe some day she’d be like Rose or Clara, and move on without the Doctor, or maybe she’d be like River; a happy memory. Strangely, she found she wasn’t as scared of either option as she’d have thought.

For now she had the Doctor. She wasn’t the first, and she probably wouldn’t be the last, but _her_ Doctor was certainly worth hurting for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title comes from Love While You Can from If/Then.
> 
> Love wherever and whenever and however you should,  
> Yes, marriage is a bastard, but love is always good.  
> It's nothing you prepare for, it's nothing that you plan,  
> But love where this world lets you.  
> Love while you can. 
> 
> Chapter title playlist can be found here: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5CUnm7fntJlE2mlfQv4jvJ?si=8_tTLDsDRYyC2t9tyOUPDA


	19. Soufflaker: She's Always Been There

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Superhero AU: Jane Smith is determined to find out the identity of the Impossible Girl- Only maybe it isn't quite that easy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just so you're aware I did initially write this with a short smut section, but I wanted to keep the rating for this compilation as teen, so if you'd rather read the extended version I'll be posting it as a standalone oneshot. It's not a lot, but that version will also have a bonus chapter with a brief explanation of everyone's powers, so also head there if you're interested in that. 
> 
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/29611023
> 
> Honestly I'm still not crazy sure about this one but I'm already late on it so I'm posting it.

**Day Twenty**  
Theme: Superhero AU  
Ship: Thirteen/Clara Oswald 

Dr Jane Smith was a lot of things. Subtle was not one of them.

If she was subtle, she wouldn’t have been sitting on the Magician’s desk, whining at him about the latest mystery she was attempting to uncover while he did his best to keep the conversation on track. Honestly, she should have been flattered that she hadn’t been kicked out, yet; Basil wasn’t a patient man- at least not with most people- but Jane knew she could get away with it.

“I thought you’d be just as annoyed about this as me. You know she’s stopped the Witch twice already?”

The Magician leant a little closer to her. “And you’re expecting me to complain that I’ve not got her bothering me?”

Jane shrugged. “I mean you never complain when she _is_ bothering you. She’s basically pulling your pigtails trying to get your attention at this point. You’ve even got the whole matching names thing going on.”

“I’m quite enjoying the place not smelling of corpse.”

“You’re the one who’s sleeping with a necromancer.”

“I’m definitely not!” Basil gave her a sharp look, and she decided not to push it, going back to her original rant.

“I need to know who she is!”

“Why? She certainly seems to be on our side so what does it matter?”

Jane sat back with a slight huff. “She must be incredibly powerful to do what she does without being seen. You don’t think we should be keeping tabs on that?” 

Basil sighed at her. “Who else have you asked?”

“Pandora. She couldn’ see _anything_ about her, Basil. She called her The Impossible Girl.”

For the first time she actually seemed to have peaked his interest. Pandora could usually see everyone- every possibility. For her to be blind to someone was a rarity.

“Do you have any leads?” He asked, somewhat begrudgingly.

“I have an address. I don’t know if she lives there or if it’s just a front or what, but-“

“Don’t just barge in there alone.”

Jane tried to look offended, but- well, that had been her plan. “As if I’m just going to go charging into some unknown woman’s building on my own.”

“Who’re you taking with you?”

She tried not to look too frustrated at his over-protective streak. Not for the first time, Jane wondered if he’d had a family, before all of this. She could definitely see him as a dad, somewhere long ago and far away.

“I have people watching my back. Don’t worry so much.” Jane hopped down off of the desk, shooting the Magician what she hoped was a reassuring smile. “Say hi to Madman and Hero for me- haven’t seen them in a while.

Basil gave her a look. “You should visit and tell them yourself sometime. John worries about you- it’s been driving me up the wall.”

Trying to ignore the sick, guilty feeling that left in the pit of her stomach, Jane slipped out of his office, not sure what else to say.

Despite her assurances that she’d be bringing the Protector along, Jane had headed to the address listed alone. She had a few tricks up her sleeve if it came to that, but so far, she hadn’t seen a thing. The apartment was neat and clean- a little too orderly for her tastes, but clearly well-maintained, and lived in. She’d padded around for a few minutes, before reaching the kitchen.

Standing there, leaning against the counter and watching Jane as though she got her house broken into on a daily basis, was one of the prettiest girls she’d ever seen. The petite brunette was clad in a very neat red dress with a Peter Pan collar and, holding a penguin books mug in both hands. She hardly looked threatening.

They stated at each other for almost a minute, before the woman held out the mug in her hand to Jane in a sort of joking half-toast, giving her an amused kind of smile.

“The Superstition, I presume? I’ve heard you’ve been asking questions about me.”

“You’re the Impossible Girl?” Jane tried not to sound surprised. She knew you could hardly judge someone’s powers just from the look of them, but most non-humans had this kind of air around them of _something_ a little off. This woman, at least by Jane’s estimation, seemed as human as they came.

“You could just call me Clara- as that’s my name?”

“Jane.” The blonde offered a smile, a little baffled by the whole situation, really. This was- not at all what she’d expected.

“Nice to meet you, Jane Smith- can I get you a cuppa? It’ll make for a much nicer chat.”

It wouldn’t be until much later that Jane realised she hadn’t given her full name.

Two days later, Jane was sitting in a slightly dodgy café, leaning over the table a little more than strictly necessary towards Songbird. She might avoid using her powers more than most, but she was certainly a force to be reckoned with- and she was the kind of woman who made it her business to know everyone.

“What do you know about the Impossible Girl?”

River’s face broke into a smirk at that one- it was clearly a question she’d been expecting. “Yes James warned me you were on that one.” She hummed, glancing around to make sure there were no human’s listening in. “I thought you’d probably come to me soon when you heard about what she did to the Spymaster.”

Jane’s head snapped up at that one. “What did she do to him?”

“He had some big plan, apparently. I don’t know the details- probably something nonsensical and overly complicated knowing him, but police found him cuffed to a pipe in his own warehouse two days ago. He’s out again, obviously, but it’s still impressive- especially since he’s apparently got no leads on her.”

“She took the Spymaster down without being seen?” Even she hadn’t managed that,

“Well it certainly looks that way. I hear you had an address for her?”

“It was a dud the first time.”

River shrugged, leaning back in her seat and crossing one leg over the other, clearly amused by this whole situation. “Maybe you should try again?”

“Try again?”

“Well, whoever she is she’s insanely powerful- and that kind of power can be dangerous. She seems to be on our side, but that kind of power can be dangerous.”

From what Jane knew of the Songbird’s story, she suspected she was speaking from experience. “You don’t have anymore leads?” she asked hopefully.

River shook her head.

“Not really. I heard a rumour it could be a codename for a team of women, but I kind of doubt that’s true. Strength in numbers isn’t a thing many people want to hide.”

“Okay, so, go back to the original address, and keep an eye out for multiples?

“Mhm.” River hummed, watching Jane over the top of her cup. “Just don’t get yourself hurt in there- those brothers of yours will be awfully cross with me if they know I told you to keep investigating her.

“They’re not my _brothers_.” 

“They’re as good as, and they worry about you.” River cut her off before she could get into a rant. Jane’s eyes fall to her teacup, a little sheepish, but she didn’t respond.

As Jane hoisted herself up onto the balcony of the apartment she’d found, she couldn’t help but wish she’d used another entrance, especially when she tumbled over the railing, only to land right at Clara’s feet. The brunette raised an eyebrow at her, though she looked more amused than annoyed.

“Superstition. Always a pleasure. You know, you can always just use the front door.”

“Clara!” Jane’s voice was bright, and a little surprised, as though she hadn’t expected to run into her at all. She glanced over the edge of the balcony at her rope, frowning just a little. “Sorry I don’t know why-“

Clara laughed lightly. “Don’t worry about it.” She bent down to help Jane, but the blonde’s eyes were almost immediately drawn to the bandage wrapped around her forearm.

“What happened?” She asked, suddenly sounding concerned.

“One of the Spymaster’s traps.” Clara shrugged, flexing her fingers. “Nightingale took a look at it for me, it’s nothing too serious.”

“But people have been saying you got in and out of that job clean?”

“One minor injury isn’t messy.”

“But it you’re getting hurt-“ Jane tried, but Clara shushed her. She managed to keep quiet for all of ten seconds before speaking again. “What if he comes after you?”

Clara smirked slightly. “I’d like to see him try.”

“Are you still hooked on this whole ‘Impossible Girl’ thing?” John had apparently gotten bored of waiting for a visit from her, and had come himself. Jane was already beginning to get frustrated. It wasn’t that she didn’t like seeing him- but there was something about his habit of swanning around her flat peering around which set her on edge.

“I need to know who she is!” Jane moved over to pick up the stack of notes he was looking at, dropping them into an already messy paper tray in the corner of her desk. “She’s powerful, and I think she could be important.”

“I’m surprised you haven’t got one of those little-“ He mimed pushing a pin into the wall, “The conspiracy cork-boards with the red string.”Jane felt her face heat up slightly, and his suddenly broke into a grin. “Oh now this I’ve got to see.”

Jane crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

John laughed, his tone teasing. “If I didn’t know any better I’d think you had a crush, Jane-y. A crush on a woman nobody can see- now that really would be something.”

“I don’t _fancy_ her. I just want to know what her whole deal is.”

“And we don’t want you to get hurt. Getting emotional over stuff like this can be dangerous. I’m worried about you- James and Basil, are too.”

Jane raised an eyebrow. “You’re suddenly worried about me fallin’ for a mystery girl?” She asked dryly. “You three _really_ can’t talk.”

“What’s that supposed to-“ He began, but Jane held up a hand to stop him.

“Bad Wolf, Songbird, and the Witch. Getting attached to mysterious women is sort of our thing.”

That certainly seemed to shut him up teasing her.

Clara always seemed to be expecting her when she visited. It was odd, really, Jane could rarely remember why she’d decided to stop by, but after that first time, there were always two cups of tea sitting on the countertop, and sometimes she’d spread out maps and plans, wanting Jane’s opinion. Today, though, there’d been a film set up and a bowl of popcorn on the coffee table, and Clara had already been dressed in soft flannel pyjamas, her hair piled up on top of her head. She looked pretty like that- softer, more domestic. She got a feeling this was not a side of the Impossible Girl that many people got to see, and was rather touched that she’d been allowed a glimpse.

“I’m not interrupting owt am I?” She’d asked after stumbling in.

Clara had just rolled her eyes fondly, gesturing to the blanket-covered couch.

“You said you liked bad scifi movies- I lined a few of the worst up.”

She really hadn’t been lying about that- not that Jane was complaining. Sitting curled up with Clara under a blanket giggling at the cheesy effects was nice in a way she hadn’t particularly expected, especially when the night set on and Clara started to get sleepy, her head resting against Jane’s shoulder.

“So this one has amnesia too?” She asked, her voice slightly muffled by the blanket wrapped around their shoulders.

“Mhm. I think it’s something to do with him coming back to life.”

Clara offered the screen an inscrutable look, and then shook her head.

“I don’t know why they always forget.”

“I know you’re here to ask me about the Impossible Girl.”

The Storyteller was never one to stand on ceremony, or be held back by social customs like greetings. Jane found she rather liked that about her.

“And I’m really hoping you have more to tell me than everyone else, because nobody seems to know who she is.”

“Not much that I can share.” She watched Jane with an expression somewhere between interest and distrust. “You’ve never met her?”

“Don’t even know what she looks like.” Jane shrugged. The Storyteller raised an eyebrow, but didn’t push her on the issue.

“You have her address, right?”

“How did you know-“ Jane began, but the dark haired woman raised a hand to stop her talking.

“It’s an awfully big lead not to have followed up on.”

Jane opened her mouth to argue the point, but couldn’t. She had no excuse- why _hadn’t_ she visited yet? The Storyteller gave her a knowing look.

“You should take that, too,” She nodded, at a little black object sitting on the table by her chair. Jane picked it up, turning it over in her hands.

“Been reading about pirates a lot, lately?” She asked, bringing the eyepatch up to try it on. She froze when it was just a few inches from her face, taking a breath. She could feel a faint buzzing coming from within the thing- something dangerous and unstable which sent a faint, electric prickle over her skin- like the static that hung in the air before a thunderstorm.

For the first time the Storyteller had broken her well-practiced air of aloofness, now on her feet in front of Jane and reaching a hand out towards her, as though she’d been ready to physically stop her if she hadn’t realised in time. “It’s dangerous, but it’ll be useful. You’ll know what it’s for when you get there.”

Jane looked at her for a long moment, before nodding. “Thank you.”

“I’m not doing it for you.”

“Who’s Clara?”

“I don’t know a Clara.”

“I mean, you clearly do, though.”

Jane glanced up from her desk, looking at the old envelope Ryan was holding. She frowned slightly, gesturing for him to pass it over. Sure enough, she’d written herself a note in the corner- ‘Dinner with Clara, 7pm, don’t forget’ followed by an address. She turned the envelope over, but there was nothing else of note- it was just an old bit of scrap paper, and the handwriting was clearly hers- she was honestly surprised that Ryan could read it. Even if she didn’t know what she’d been a Doctor of, she still very much had a Doctor’s hand.

“I know that place.” Yaz glanced over, looking a little concerned. “It’s posh.”

Jane shrugged. “Well- I should probably get ready, then.”

“You’re not _actually_ gonna go, right?” Yaz looked concerned, “You get a weird note saying you’ve got a date with a woman you’ve never met and you’re just going to turn up?”

“Well it’s my handwriting.” Jane wasn’t sure why, but she had a good feeling about this. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

Yaz had been right about the restaurant being fancy. Jane was wearing her best suit, and she’d bought flowers (she wasn’t entirely sure what had possessed her to do so- it just felt right), and now she was just sitting there at the table she’d apparently reserved, waiting for her mystery date to turn up.

When Clara walked into the room, she took Jane’s breath away. She was dressed in scarlet, and she looked utterly stunning, striding over to the table and giving her an apologetic smile, “Sorry I’m late.”

Jane wanted to say that she’d have happily waited a lot longer for this, but that felt a little too cheesy for a kind-of first date, so she just smiled. “I don’t mind. I’m glad you’re here.”

“As if I’d miss our anniversary.” Clara said, though she seemed to regret it a moment later.

“Anniversary?”

“It’s a long story.”

“I didn’t remember why I was coming here today…” Jane said, her words coming a little slow as she tried to put the pieces together. Her own mind seemed to be actively fighting connecting the dots. “I didn’t remember I was meeting you. Why do I never remember you?”

“How do you think I get in and out of so many messes without being seen? I’m impossible. People can’t remember me when they’re away from me- makes life a lot safer, but-“ She gestured vaguely at the table. “It’s not so good for my love life.”

“So- how long?”

“Three months.”

Jane’s shoulders slumped slightly. It explained a lot but- well. It also _was_ a lot.

“I’m sorry-“ She immediately tried, but Clara shook her head quickly.

“No, no- I’ve got something for this.” pulling her bag into her lap and starting to dig through. for something- eventually finding a little jewellery box. When she opened it, and passed it across, Jane could see a single, odd-looking silver earing with a bulky, star-patterned cuff clinging to it by a stiff chain.

“Well that makes the flowers seem like a bit of a let down...” She glanced up at Clara, who was grinning now, “What?”

“I don’t think it really counts as a present, since you made it. Side effects of being around me too long you start to lose what you were doing even when it’s not directly related.”

“I made this?” She paused, and sure enough she could feel that faint electric humming coming from it. “What does it do?”

“Well, the Storyteller got you the parts and then you got it working. It’s external storage.”

“External storage for what?”

“Your brain.”

It was hard not to raise an eyebrow at that one. Jane found herself digging the little bits of silver out of the box. She could certainly see where things connected, and feel the wires that ran between the two pieces, but it would still be impressive if it worked.

“And it’ll store-“

“Me. Everything we do together. You’ll remember me.”

Jane’s breath caught in her throat, and she fumbled with the little clasps, trying to get the thing attached. In the end Clara leant over to help her, and between the two of them they managed to get it in place. Somehow, nothing felt different- not that she knew what it should feel like.

“How do we know if it’s worked?”

Clara took a breath, her fingers still lingering at Jane’s jaw. “I guess we just have to wait and see.”

The blonde took her hand, pressing a kiss to the back. “Thank you.

“Don’t thank me, you clever girl. Remember me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title comes from Once You See from Carrie. 
> 
> She,  
> She's always been there  
> I,  
> I never knew.
> 
> Chapter title playlist can be found here: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5CUnm7fntJlE2mlfQv4jvJ?si=8_tTLDsDRYyC2t9tyOUPDA


	20. Thrissy: Lets Make Her Beautiful

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor isn't used to having longer hair, and really, who else would she call for tips?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have a short slightly bittersweet thing about Missy doing the Doctor's hair because I didn't have any ideas for this prompt and I need to catch up.

**Day Twenty-One**  
Theme: Hair  
Ship: Thirteen/Missy 

“Ow!”

“Do you want my help or not?”

The Doctor was really beginning to regret this. Of course, she really did need the help- she’d never had hair this long before, and looking after it was proving to be a lot more annoying than she’d expected. She could have asked Yaz, but it felt too weird admitting that she didn’t know how to do this kind of thing- humans didn’t tend to find themselves with twice the amount of hair (and with a completely different texture too!) overnight- she didn’t know how to explain it.

When she’d gone to someone she wouldn’t have to explain it to, she knew it probably wasn’t the _best_ idea, but well. Any excuse to spend time with an old friend.

“Have you even _brushed_ this mess since you got it?”

“Yes I’ve brushed i- Ow!” The Doctor pouted slightly, reaching up to rub at where Missy had just yanked her hair, only to get a rap across the knuckles with the back of the brush for her troubles. She let out a whine, bringing her hand down and rubbing her thumb over the stinging area. “That was just mean. Remind me why I asked you to help again?”

“Because I’m fabulous and I know what I’m doing.” Missy hummed, sounding a little haughty about it. The Doctor snorted out a laugh, and earned herself another less-than gentle tug with the brush. “And because you’re a stubborn old idiot who won’t ask the puppies for help because you like to pretend you know everything.”

“I do know everything.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, and now it was Missy’s turn to laugh at her. “Doctor, dear, I remember your test scores. You can pull that with your pets but it’s never going to work on me.”

“Well it’s not like they had a test on this.” She pouted, though at the slight click of the brush against the side table she became aware that Missy must have detangled the worst of it now. She felt slender fingers brushing through her hair, and fingernails scratching gently against her scalp, being shockingly gentle to say who they belonged to.

“It’s nice.” Missy murmured, trying to work any knots that remained out of her friends hair before they got into washing it. It wasn’t like anything they’d ever done before, but It felt oddly like old times. Maybe it was just being together, with no threats of violence and nobody being imprisoned.

“What’s nice? You doing my hair.”

“Well, that’s nice, but the hair itself is nice, too. Or it will be when you start actually taking care of this.” There was a slight pause, before she admitted. “I’ve always liked you blonde.”

The Doctor pulled a face. “You have? Even when I was me with the stupid coat?”

Missy pulled a mock-surprised face, “You’re telling me this you isn’t ‘you with the stupid coat’?”

“Oi! S’not a stupid coat, it’s a brilliant coat!”

“If you say so , dear. Which one was ‘you with the stupid coat’ then?”

The Doctor thought for a moment, counting back to check herself. “Six. With the curly hair.”

Missy pulled a face, her fingers stilling for a moment, before she leant over to pick up a bottle from the collection beside her and began to run some odd, sweet-smelling product through her hair.

“Well, actually, yes. You’re right, that one was a _very_ stupid coat. Then again I was really just pleased that you’d stopped wearing vegetables as accessories, I was taking what I could get.”

“If you want to talk about bad fashion choices I can bring up the goatee again.” The Doctor remarked. That seemed to quiet her again. “Why do you like me blonde anyway? If you were so not fond of my blonde incarnations.”

Shrugging, Missy just responded, “Nostalgia, I suppose, Poppet. An old girl gets sentimental sometimes, thinking back to school life- surely you know that.”

The Doctor swallowed hard. It was very odd, hearing Missy actually acknowledge their school days without any taunting associated- she usually only brought them up when she wanted to use them against his newer friends and try to show that she was somehow superior just because she’d known him the longest- but this? This felt genuine.

“Was I blonde back then?” She asked, trying to think that far back. She didn’t remember much of what she’d looked like, but she vividly remembered sitting in an Academy dorm bed with Koschei’s head in her lap, stroking through his dark hair. It wasn’t so different from how they were now, she supposed, though the faces were very different.

“Blonde and curly- and a total mess, so that hasn’t changed. You’ve never been good at taking care of yourself.”

“You were always the pretty one, so I didn’t have to be.” The Doctor shrugged, tipping her head back to look at Missy once her hands moved away. She was wiping her hands on a towel, grabbing a second brush- the kind with plastic spikes for bristles that you were supposed to use on wet hair. It didn’t suit her whole Victoriana aesthetic as much as the silver-backed one she’d been using before, but the Doctor suspected it was likely better for her hair in the long run.

She stepped around to kneel in front of the Doctor, pretending to check that there was enough of the product in the front sections in her hair.

“You could be. If you wanted- that’s just never been your charm.” Missy countered. “You never wanted to be pretty, it was too much work, I mean,” She shifted, taking the Doctor’s chin a little too forcefully in one hand. “Just look at this face. It’s lovely. If you dressed for it, you could be a real lady killer.”

The Doctor pulled a face. “I’m not looking for that kind of thing. Not anymore.”

“Not even with that pretty little puppy of yours? She really is nice- almost as nice as Clara, I’d say, and I _know_ you liked her, because I have great taste.”

She rolled her eyes at Missy’s boasting. “Her name is Yasmin, and no.”

Missy offered her one of those wicked smirks, still holding her face. “Good. I thought I was going to have to get jealous for a moment there.”

Before the Doctor really had a chance to process what was happening, Missy had pulled her into a kiss. It was a little possessive, and fast enough that it was over before she’d really had a chance to process what had happened, but it was definitely a kiss.

“Missy-“

“What?” She gave her an innocent look, standing, and moving to brush her hair again as though it hadn’t happened.

“I just said I wasn’t looking for-“

“You can say whatever you like, Theta.” The Doctor tried to ignore the jolt that that name sent up her spine, but judging by the wicked smirk still playing across Missy’s lips she’d noticed. “But you let me into your head, remember? It’s okay, I won’t tease.”

Despite the assurance, the Doctor’s face turned pink. She wasn’t used to being this vulnerable around the Master.

“You know we’re not- that- anymore, Kos.”

Missy hummed, her fingers working some other product in soothing little circles over the Doctor’s scalp now.

“I know, dear. I know. But give a girl one moment of weakness. For old times sake.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title comes from Beautiful from Heathers.
> 
> And you know, you know, you know,  
> This could be beautiful.  
> Mascara, maybe some lipgloss, and we're on our way.  
> Get this girl some blush,  
> And Heather I need your brush.  
> Let's make her beautiful. 
> 
> Chapter title playlist can be found here: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5CUnm7fntJlE2mlfQv4jvJ?si=8_tTLDsDRYyC2t9tyOUPDA


	21. Thrissy: Barking Mad Cinderella

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone is trying to play a joke on the Doctor- the only issue? Them getting out is dependent on the Doctor's ability to do things by the book and not break the rules.

**Day Twenty-Two**   
**Theme: Castle**   
**Ship: Missy/Thirteen**

The TARDIS library was usually a pretty safe place to nod off. It had comfy sofas, a fireplace, and that comforting smell of leather and old paper, and you were almost always in the same place when you woke up as when you went to sleep.

Though, evidently, not this time.

The Doctor’s eyes blinked open, and though she could definitely still feel the heat of a dying fire, she also most definitely wasn’t curled up in her nice soft armchair anymore. Pushing herself up off of the cold stone with a groan, glancing around the- kitchen? Well it looked like a kitchen, but it certainly wasn’t the one on her TARDIS- at least not one of the ones she was used to. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d stumbled on an unfamiliar room in the TARDIS, but somehow she wasn’t sure that was what this was.

She sat up, trying to get a sense of where and when she was, but there was nothing. The room looked old, and it definitely _looked_ earth- maybe 1800s, based on the technology- but then why was the smell so off. In fact all she could smell was that old paper and leather combination that reminded her of the library- there wasn’t even any smoke coming off of the fire in front of her.

“Okay. So- weird.” Leaning forward she placed a hand towards the fire, and there was no heat emanating from the embers. “Right. No smell, no heat- and this definitely isn’t my TARDIS.” She went to dig through her pockets for a sonic but- nothing. No sonic, no pockets, in fact no familiar clothing at all. “Ugh. Empty pockets. Hate empty pockets.” She pulled a face, pulling at the dirty apron tied out of her waist- she looked like something out of a cartoon. She brushed her fingers over the grey skirt, trying to see if there was anything off about it, though the rough cloth seemed normal enough, if a little too stiff.

Trying to stand up, she very nearly tripped over the long skirt. “Well that’s just not practical.” She grumbled, already missing her usual clothes. These were grey and dull, and she wasn’t a fan of dresses- she’d never understood how Clara could run around in them and still look perfect at the end of the day. Still, maybe an adventure was what she needed. She’d been putting off returning for her fam for days now.

She headed towards the doorway, only to be almost knocked over by a short, red-faced man in a too-tight coat.

“Ah! There you are- the Mistress wants to see you.”

The Doctor’s blood just about ran cold at that one.

“The _Mistress_?” She glanced at the man, looking for any sign of injury. He certainly looked stressed, but his eyes were clear- no signs of hypnosis. Was this an odd coincidence, or something more sinister?

“Blimy, Ella. You haven’t hit your head? Just- I can tell her you’ve already gone to the market if you need some time?”

“Why are you callin’ me Ella?” The Doctor looked at him, eyebrows raised.

“Cause that’s your name?”

“No it’s not?” She pulled another face, only seeming to confuse the man further.

“Look, you obviously need time to- clear your head. Go get the eggs or somethin’, sharpish, and I’ll deal with the Mistress ‘til you get back.”

The Doctor shook her head. “No- No I’m fine. I want to see her.”

“…Right. Well, she’s upstairs in her room. She wants tea.”

Wrinkling her nose, the Doctor gave him a look. “Oh I bet she does. Bet she’d love that. I’m not making _her_ tea.”

She glanced back at the man, who was trying his best to protest her running off- as if that’d ever stopped her, before taking off up an ornate staircase, having to gather up her skirts to avoid tripping over them. She was definitely going to have to change as soon as she got the opportunity. She reached the top of the stairs without incident, opening the first door she saw (because she hadn’t actually asked which room the _Mistress_ was in) and stopping stock still. There was no room behind it- just a blank wall the colour of yellowing paper. She tried the next, and found a similar result, though this time the words ‘turn back’ were printed in neat letters on the wall.

“Well that’s not sinister at all.” The Doctor brushed her fingers over the wall, pressing slightly against it. It had far too much give to be stone. “Paper?” She pressed against it again, and one of her fingers tore through the surface.

She was about to open the hole further, when she felt a short, sharp pain at her fingertip- like a papercut. Yanking her hand back through, she spotted a few drops of blood, nothing bad. Still, a sick feeling was settling in the pit of her stomach. She took a step backwards, away from the torn paper barrier, before her legs gave out underneath her. The world had gone black before she even hit the floor.

The Doctor woke again, her head resting on her arms in front of that same cold fire. She blinked a few times, trying to remember what had happened to her. She’d woken up here, she’d gone upstairs, and she’d tried to tear through a paper barrier. She glanced at her hands, and sure enough, there was a small papercut at the tip of one of her fingers- looking to be a few hours old.

“Right…” She glanced around, taking longer to stand up than she had the last time.

“Ella!” The red-faced man from before bound into the room, looking relieved at seeing her. “Ella you best get upstairs quick- the Mistress is askin’ for her tea, and she wants to speak to you.”

This time, The Doctor didn’t bother querying the name, instead bending down to pick up a poker from the fireplace. “Right- the Mistress.” She’d already begun walking past him, heading for the stairs again.

“What about the tea?” The man called after her. She didn’t respond.

Just the same as she had before, the Doctor opened the second door, though this time she didn’t just push her hand through the paper, instead slashing through it with the poker, giving her a look at what was on the other side. The answer was far less interesting than what she’d been expecting- inky blackness, and nothing else. She watched for a moment, tempted to try and step through, before she heard the rustling of paper. Glancing down, she spotted a little creature scrambling towards her through the darkness, looking a lot like some kind of origami rat.

“What are you?” She bent down, trying to get a better look and reaching out to try and calm the creature, but before she had the chance to say anything else it’d sunk its teeth into her wrist. “Ah! What-“

She didn’t get the chance to say anything more than that, her legs giving way in the same way as they had before, and her world fading again.

She woke by the fire. Glancing at her wrist, there was another half-healed papercut. She pushed herself to her feet, more grumpily than before, and went to the kitchen door, getting out of it just in time to be accosted by the red-faced man.

“Ella! The Mistress-“

“Wants her tea, yeah got it.” She took two steps towards the stairs, before glancing back at him. “What door is it?”

“Third one to the left, Ella, but what about-“ The Doctor was already running off. “…What about the tea?”

She reached the top of the stairs in record time, yanking open the third door, and finding herself looking at a sour-faced older woman sitting up in bed, and glaring at the Doctor as though she was something particularly nasty she’d stood in.

The Doctor strode closer, looking for some sign of a disguise. She didn’t even notice the paper cat lunging at her from under the bed before it’d sunk its teeth into her ankle.

At least this time she fell onto the bed, rather than directly onto the wooden floor.

It took her two more attempts before she realised what she’d done wrong. On the third attempt she’d finally gotten frustrated with the whining about tea and had brought a pot with her, and that time the cat had stayed put under the bed, at least until she’d been less-than-polite to the Mistress of the house and it’d decided to attack again.

If she was being honest, it took an embarrassing amount of time before the Doctor worked out what was going on. She had a role to play, and when she failed to play it properly, the creatures would send her back to the beginning. Attempting to leave this house had gotten her pecked at by a swarm of paper pigeons, and every attempt to step out of line with the Mistress of the house had mice or cats nipping at her ankles. Most of the house’s doors were sealed to her with those paper barriers, so she didn’t have much choice except to do what she was told.

It’d taken an equally embarrassing amount of time for her to work out _what_ part she was playing. She was on her fourth time listening to the sour-faced witch and her daughters prattle on about the festival they were attending before she clocked it.

 _Cinderella_.

Oh there was just no way that this was going to go well.

By the time she finally made it to the castle, her arms and legs were littered with little white marks, left behind by each reset. She’d been pretty relieved when the fairy-godmother turned up and she wasn’t sent to talk to a tree- those versions had a tendency to be a lot messier. Still, that particular interaction had proved to be pretty tricky to get to- mostly owing to the Doctor’s big mouth. Every time she complained about the impracticality of the shoes, or asked for anything other than a dress, or asked too many questions in general? The birds were back on her, and she was back at the start. It was getting to be incredibly annoying.

“Some adventure.” She muttered to herself once the coach she was stuck in finally stopped in front of the castle. Hiking her skirts up in what she assumed was a rather unladylike way based on the looks it earned her, she headed, storm-faced, up the stairs, just wanting this whole ordeal to be over with. She was huffing about the heels and the impractical dress the whole way.

Stepping through the double doors, she felt an awful lot of eyes on her, though finding the shining blue set she’d been looking for wasn’t hard. She’d always been able to pick Koschei over a crowd when they weren’t actively trying to hide from her.

Missy was standing in the centre of the crowd, looking just as annoyed as the Doctor felt, wearing an impeccably tailored purple suit which reminded the Doctor rather uncomfortably of the last incarnation of the Master she’d run into.

“Fifty-seven times?” She asked, incredulous, and rather annoyed. The Doctor slowed on the steps for a moment.

“What?”

“Well don’t stop now, then! I am not playing through all of this _again_. How hard is it to just _play along_ for one day? Is this new regeneration _stupid_ or something?”

When the blonde didn’t move, Missy huffed, striding over and grabbing her rather firmly by the hands, beginning to lead her in a rather complex dance which she wasn’t at all prepared for. For a minute or so they both scowled at each other through the dance.

The whole situation was so absurd, the Doctor couldn’t help but laugh.

“It’s not funny!” Missy huffed.

“It definitely _is_.”

“I let that stupid thing loose in your library years ago! I can’t believe it’s really taken you this long to actually-“

“Hang on, you did this?”

“It was meant to be fun!” Missy pouted. “They’re these little- oh I don’t know- rat-looking-things I bought at a market. You release them in libraries, and if they bite you you get sucked in. I left one in the fairy tales because I thought I’d get to play a witch and wind you up- but that was all the way back when _Eyebrows_ was around.”

“So, hang on, you released book parasites in my library and you’re sulking that you’re stuck in a book?”

“I’m sulking that I got attacked by birds and reset fifty-seven times because you can’t see how this thing works!”

A rather sulky silence fell over the pair of them for a few moments, until Missy finally commented.

“You’re a half-decent dancer this time around. I’m impressed.”

The Doctor actually grinned at that- actual compliments were always rare with the Master, even if they did have a backhanded air to them.

“Thanks. I think that this world is giving me a little help- I’m usually way less co-ordinated. Worst I’ve been since Chinny.”

“…Yes well I am rather glad you haven’t broken out the drunk giraffe again, dearie. Still, it is nice, though, isn’t it?”

“We haven’t done this since-“

“That gala on Xoin-29. You got all cross with me because I-“

“Tried to shoot that man.” The Doctor finished. Despite the harsh words, she was smiling fondly. It’d been a nice night, before that.

“He was being rude about you!” She insisted, having to push herself up onto tiptoes to spin the Doctor around. “I must say, I love the new face. All girls together- should be fun.”

The Doctor didn’t respond- she wasn’t about to tell Missy that their timelines weren’t exactly synced right now- presumably a result of how long ago those parasites had been planted- they’d called back the version of her friend who’d sent them there, not the most recent one.

“Yeah, it’s different.” Was all she eventually settled on. “I’ll be happier once I’m back in my own clothes.”

“I think you look nice!” Missy insisted, though the Doctor suspected that even she would have to admit the skirt was over-the top. “I suspect you’re wearing something ghastly again?”

“No!” The Doctor insisted. “…Depending on your definition of ghastly. I like my new clothes. I think they’re brilliant.”

“Of course you do, dear.”

The Doctor was smiling, now, just opening her mouth to speak, when she heard a clock chime. Missy dropped her hands.

“Missy?”

“I suspect that’s your cue to leave, Doctor.” She nodded towards the door.

Honestly, the Doctor wasn’t sure she wanted to go, yet. She’d missed talking to this version of the Master. She hesitated for a moment, before Missy pushed her- a lot more gently than she’d actually been expecting.

“But-“

“Go on, or things will reset again.”

She hesitated a moment longer, before gathering up her skirts and running for the stairs.

“Don’t forget to leave a shoe!“ Missy got out, before she caught sight of a paper hummingbird flying towards her. The Doctor had, evidently, forgotten. “Oh for the love of-“ Was all she managed to get out, before the thing pecked at her, and her knees went weak again.

It looked like they were back to page one.

Fifty-nineth time's a charm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title comes from Bad Cinderella from (ALW's) Cinderella.
> 
> Yes I’m Bad Cinderella  
> I will not say goodbye  
> You’ve been hateful since I met you  
> Barking Mad Cinderella  
> Flying high in the sky  
> And I hope I have upset you  
> Well forget you. 
> 
> Chapter title playlist can be found here: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5CUnm7fntJlE2mlfQv4jvJ?si=8_tTLDsDRYyC2t9tyOUPDA


	22. Lumiteen: The Wicked Die Alone.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor runs into a newly-regenorated Lumiat while looking for an old friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Am I stretching this prompt? Yes. Is this just an excuse to write a scene I had in my head? Yes. Am I sorry? Not at all.

**Day Twenty-Three**   
**Theme: Violet**   
**Ship: Thirteen/The Lumiat**

So, the Doctor wasn’t delusional. It wasn’t as though every time she spotted someone in a violet peacoat she took off after them- especially not when she had her fam with her. Still, they weren’t even on the right planet for that outfit, let alone the right century, and there was something eerily familiar about that one in particular. She’d just caught a glimpse of the woman disappearing around a corner, and that har been it.

She did at least have the good sense to tell her fam to head into a café and stay put so they wouldn’t wander off- a spaceport wasn’t exactly the best place to leave them, but if she was right about this... Well, it was selfish, but she couldn’t turn down the opportunity she’d been handed here. If that _was_ her they were going to have to talk about what had happened. She was especially concerned about the odd burn mark spiralling out from her lower back, across the all-too-familiar coat.

Luckily for her, the Doctor was very, very used to running, so despite the figure in purple seeming to be in quite a rush, she caught her rather quickly, grabbing her hand just as she was about to disappear down a side-street. The woman looked around, bewildered and- The Doctor dropped her hand.

Wrong person. Definitely the wrong person. She had warm brown eyes, rather than the electric blue the Doctor was so used to, and her hair was too short and too light.

“Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t see you there. Can I help you?”

The Doctor swallowed. How was she supposed to play this one off without sounding like she’d lost her mind?

“I- Yeah, uh, no. sorry. I thought you were someone else.”

The woman’s face darkened slightly at that, and the Doctor saw her other hand tighten on the handle of the umbrella she was holding. “I’m very sorry.” She said, so quickly that it almost seemed reflexive, “How did you know her?”

“She was- _is_ \- an old friend of mine…” The Doctor’s eyes were fixed firmly on the umbrella in the woman’s hand, because that certainly seemed like too much of a coincidence.

“Well that’s a new one. I didn’t think she even had friends, really- though I am fairly glad you’re not coming to me with a story about her murdering hundreds of innocent civilians.” There was a slight pause, before she tried to turn to leave. “I’m sorry, but, I have to go. I have a shuttle off world in a few minutes and-“

“Missy?”

So, maybe she was leaping to conclusions, but there was something off about this situation. She could have pulled her sonic out and scanned the woman- checked the heartbeats- but the outfit and the umbrella (and the charred fabric at her back) were enough for her, at least for now.

There were a few beats pause, before the woman turned back to face her, dusting ash off of her skirts for something to do. “In a fashion, darling. In a fashion.”

“You’ve regenerated?” Despite her anger at Missy’s abandonment, the Doctor’s voice betrayed her concern. Of course, it was a rather obvious question- or it would be with most Time Lords- but the Master had always loved disguises.

“Not-“ The woman began, before seeming to think better of going into the nitty gritty, and nodding. “Yes. Well-“ She brought her hand up, showing off a few whisps of golden light in the half-light. “Regenerating, technically. Final stages.”

“What happened?”

The woman- _The Master_ \- stepped back away from her slightly. “Oh my- you _care_.” There was a slight pause, before she asked, “It’s you, isn’t it? _Doctor_.”

“How did you-“

“Missy was never really a good woman, Doctor. I think you’re the only person left in the Universe who’d care about her.”

Well, it was a harsh realisation, and one the Doctor couldn’t fully agree with, because there had to be someone else out there, right? It still hurt to think that Missy still seemed to think of herself as beyond love.

“What happened?” She eventually asked, “You left, with you, and you had the knife- I thought for a minute…”

“I was going to stab myself in the back and come back?” The woman asked. The Doctor looked almost sheepish to have suggested it. “Well. I tried. The memories are a little hazy- I don’t remember much before the ship, if I’m honest, but- Well. I know that I did try.”

“You did?” The Doctor’s eyes widened, and she suddenly looked more hopeful than she had in a very long time. “But you never came back- I waited. I waited, but you never came back, and then-“

“I shot myself.”

“You- What?” The Doctor gave her a questioning look. She indicated the charred back of her dress. That was about the time it all became incredibly clear to her. She very much wished it hadn’t. “The other you- the past you. He-“

“Shot me in the back? Yes. He didn’t seem thrilled I was planning on returning to you.” 

The Doctor stood in stunned silence for a moment. All those nights thinking about Missy’s decisions. All that anger about her best friend abandoning her after everything they’d been through together. It wasn’t as though she’d hated her- she wasn’t sure that she could ever really hate the Master, no matter what they did- but she’d resented Missy for leaving.

Why hadn’t she followed her? All those years of regretting, and she should have been regretting just letting her go. She’d felt the knife in Missy’s hand. She’d suspected her intention- why had she not gone looking when she never came back? All at once, the guilt hit her like a truck, and she was dragging her into a tight hug. This newest incarnation just relaxed into the touch in a way that none of her predecessors ever had, at least not since they we re children. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?”

“You shouldn’t have been alone. I should have come looking.”

The woman squeezed her hand gently. “You said yourself that that it was a test. I think she passed it, Doctor. She died without hope, without witness, without reward.” There was a slight pause, “In the end, she tried to stand with you.”

“Come with me.” There was a pleading note to her voice, “Me and you, Missy. Like we always wanted.”

The woman in front of her flinched at that name. “Not Missy. Not anymore.”

“What, then? Mistress?” She just about managed a smile, “Tell me you’re not going back to the Mrs Tea thing?”

She laughed along with the Doctor, shaking her head. “I don’t think I want to be ‘the Master’, anymore.”

The Doctor took a breath and stepped back to look at her old friend. She remembered rejecting her name once- feeling like it was a title she didn’t deserve. Then again, ‘the Doctor’ had never had the same connotations as ‘the Master’. Maybe this new name would show that she really _had_ changed? “You’re sure? What, then?”

“I don’t know, yet.”

“Well, I’ll be there for you while you work it out.”

The woman took both of the Doctor’s hands in hers. “I would like nothing more than to come with you, Doctor.” Somehow, the Doctor could sense the ‘but’ coming. “Someday. But not yet. I need to take some time to work out who I am.”

“You’re sure?”

She nodded. “I might not remember most of it, but from what I’ve read already, I have an awful lot of karma to pay back, darling.”

The Doctor looked at her for a long minute, and then nodded. She dug a pen out of her coat pocket, quickly scrawling a number on one of the woman’s hands.

“My fam made me get a proper phone- I’m getting better with answering it. You can call me, if you need someone.”

“Thank you, Doctor.” She glanced behind her. “I should- I don’t want to miss my shuttle. Not to mention I really do need to change, soon.” She pulled at her tattered, mud-caked violet skirts, which were a good five inches shorter on this body than they’d been on the last. “I’m not sure this is really _me_ anymore.”

That earned her a laugh from the blonde. “I’ll see you again?”

“Oh, I’m sure you will. Until the next time?”

The Doctor pulled her into another hug.

“Until the next tile, Koschei.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title comes from No One Mourns the Wicked from Wicked.
> 
> And goodness knows,  
> We know what goodness is.  
> Goodness knows,  
> The wicked die alone.  
> She died alone!
> 
> Chapter title playlist can be found here: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5CUnm7fntJlE2mlfQv4jvJ?si=8_tTLDsDRYyC2t9tyOUPDA


	23. W!Masmin: Some Girls Were Rational (Yasmin was not.)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Revisiting W!Master and Yasmin. Yasmin finally gets the gateway open to free her Master.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just so you're aware I did initially write this with smuttier sections, but I wanted to keep the rating for this compilation as teen, so if you'd rather read the extended version I'll be posting it as a seperate work which you can read here. 
> 
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/29411256/chapters/72993954

**Day Twenty-Four**  
**Theme: Lily**  
**Ship: W!Master/Yasmin Kahn**

When Yasmin was a very little girl, her mother had kept a large potted peace lily in their front room, sitting next to the television. She’d been told she fixated on it, trying to draw pictures of the elegant white blooms, poking around in the dirt at its roots, and forever in trouble for tugging on its leaves. She’d loved that plant, sitting and staring at it for hours on end. It was just _beautiful_. 

One day, when she was still very young, her mother had walked into the room only to find her chewing on one of the large, green leaves, dribbling greenish-sap and spit down her chin, her hands sticky with it.

That was the first time she ever ended up in A&E.

She’d gotten lucky, the nurse said. Her airway didn’t close up despite the irritation, but she still remembered wailing in pain as her mouth and throat burned. She remembered the rash which had covered her chin and hands for days afterwards. She remembered sitting with a glass of milk to try and take the pain away while the beautiful flowers were sent into the nearest skip.

That was the first time that Yasmin learned that some things that were oh so pretty to look at could hurt you badly if you got too close.

She’d spent weeks now, working on the broken clock, and her Master seemed very pleased with her.

Testing it was always a little painful- that odd, icy-cold sensation of pushing her hand into the mirror world never fully went away, but as the thing got closer and closer to being whole again, she could feel more and more of what was on the other side.

Yasmin knew, by now, that her Master wasn’t a good woman. She wouldn’t admit it, but that was half of the thrill.

She had, of course, been horrified the first time that the Master sent one of her minions through the gateway. It wasn’t finished, yet, but she’d fixed it well enough that the little angels could pass through. It’d seemed perfectly innocuous, when she’d held it- made of polished stone, and tiny enough to sit in the palm of her hand, with a perfectly angelic little face hidden behind it’s hands. It was nothing dangerous- the kind of odd little ornament she could imagine fitting into a lot of houses.

Yasmin had been instructed to take it and leave it somewhere quiet, with plenty of foot traffic. She’d picked out a picked out a perfectly lovely spot- sitting it on top of a fence that bordered a small area of woodland, beside a nice walking path she knew her parents sometimes visited.

The next morning, when she’d woken, it’d been sitting on her shelf, and the sweet little fairy ornament that’d sat there since childhood was in pieces on her floor.

She’d asked the Master about it, but she’d simply smiled a wicked smile that showed far too many teeth, and told her not to worry about a thing. That night, she saw on the news that a young dogwalker had turned up dead in that same patch of woodland where she’d left the angel. The girl had been young- barely a year older than Yasmin, and her mother was suddenly fussing over her and Sonya, but nobody was looking for a killer- she knew as much from work. It was a tragedy, but nothing the police were concerned about. It’d been ruled an animal attack.

Yasmin was pretty sure she knew better.

She didn’t look in the mirror for two days after that, upset, and ashamed at her part in the woman’s death. She knew her Master had done it on purpose, and that angel- that _thing_ \- was still in her room, sitting innocently just above her bed.

On the third morning, she knelt in front of the mirror again, as though nothing had happened, trying to ignore the eyes of the angel on her back. It’s hands were lowered, now, and she could see the wide, shark-toothed smile it gave her every time she turned it’s way. It could have ripped out her throat, if it wanted to, and yet the Master kept it at bay.

It gave her a sick sense of pride, that she was useful enough to live.

She went back to work, fixing the clock after that. She had all the parts, scavenged from around town. Once or twice, she’d been told to take the angel to specific places, and in the morning it would be on her bedside table, holding the pieces out to her.

On one particularly sunny morning, there’d been blood, and a few strands of dark hair clinging to the silvery cog, as though the angel had bludgeoned the former owner to death using it.

Yasmin quickly wiped the blood from the cog, and went about replacing it in the clock as though it’d never been there.

By the time she finally had the last piece to fix the gateway, there were four angels in her room, and six new missing-person’s cases being looked into at work.

The angels had gotten better at hiding their kills over time. She was still a probationer, so she wasn’t exactly involved in homicides, but she’d been drafted into the teems canvasing local woodlands once or twice, scanning for bodies or evidence with teams of volunteers, and playing the concerned officer, all the while the murderers slept soundly in her bedroom each night. She hadn’t found any bodies yet, but she knew that if she asked the Master, she could probably find out where they were.

She’d considered it, once or twice, but decided against it, in the end. She found her job, as much as she’d loved it a few months ago, didn’t seem all that important anymore.

She knew what was important, now. Her Master was important, and she was so close to finally breaking her free.

When that final piece finally arrived, Yasmin raced to the mirror, holding the piece up like a child excited to show off what they’d made to a proud parent. If she didn’t know better, she might have said the Master’s smile was a little less predatory than usual when she saw it.

“Is that the last one, angel?” She asked, and for once, she sounded gentle. Her fingers ran through the reflected Yasmin’s hair as though she were petting a favourite dog. “Such a good girl. Do you know where it goes?”

Yasmin nodded proudly.

“Well then? Let’s get the clock ticking so I can come through. I can’t wait to see you properly, lovely- without the glass in the way.”

The Master pressed her palm against the glass again, as she had before, and this time it distorted far further than it had before. The barrier between their worlds was clearly weakening.

At an expectant look from her Master, Yasmin quickly scrambled towards the clock, fumbling with that last, shining piece of metal for a few torturous minutes, before she heard a loud clunk as it fell into place. Winding the clock was easy enough after that, and she watched as the manic glee on the Master’s face grew brighter with each tick of the clock.

“I can come through when it chimes.” She explained, looking eagerly at it. “That’s when the barrier is weakest. Can you wait that long, angel?”

“Yes, Master.” Yasmin answered almost instinctively, already moving to kneel in front of the mirror again, looking adoringly up at the blonde behind the glass.

The Master smirked at her.

“Are you expecting another reward?” She asked, her tone dancing on the thin line between danger and teasing. “Well, I suppose you have done well. But, you can wait, can’t you?”

Yasmin nodded, content for now to just watch. The Master had rolled her sleeves up, and Yasmin found herself staring at the odd circular tattoos dancing up her forearms.

“You’re thinking very loudly, angel.” The Master scolded lightly, though she sounded amused.

“Sorry, Master.” Yasmin tried to school her thoughts immediately, fixing her eyes a little lower, though that only served to get her staring at the circles across the Master’s calf.

“It says ‘say something nice’. I like people to say nice things to me, before they die.”

The idea of that should have been chilling, but Yasmin couldn’t focus on much beyond how nice those words sounded in the Master’s voice. Then again, she was sure that anything would sound nice in _her_ voice.

“You’re going to kill more people?” Her voice was quiet, though her family weren’t home.

“You’re going to act surprised about that, lovely?” The Master looked delighted at the prospect. “You knew that all along. If innocent didn’t look so pretty on you I might get annoyed.”

Yasmin didn’t have time to look sheepish. The Master’s attention had turned to the clock, which had just begin to chime. She watched the blonde move towards the reflected clock, and then, she blinked, and it was just a normal reflection again. No angels (beyond the ones the Master had sent through), and no woman in scarlet.

She blinked again, and suddenly there was a hand in her hair, yanking it back, and exposing Yasmin’s throat.

“Hello, angel.” The Master said, and now her low, sweet voice wasn’t just in Yasmin’s head. She was here, and she was real, and she was staring at Yasmin like she was the catch of the day. “Lovely to finally see you for real.”

“Master-“

“Shh. Shh…” The Master brought a finger to her lips. “Quiet, my lovely. I just want to look, for now.”

She let go of Yasmin’s hair, beginning to circle her. Though she couldn’t have been more than an inch taller, she seemed to let off an air of strength that made the thought of crossing her _terrifying_.

“I don’t need you anymore, you know.” Her sharp fingernails traced over Yasmin’s throat as she spoke. “You’ve outlived your usefulness, so why should I let you live?”

“I’m-“

That earned her another sharp yank on her hair.

“Did I say to speak?” The Master’s voice was suddenly sharp, though it turned back to that soft, deadly tone again a moment later. “Let me think.”

Yasmin swallowed, but didn’t speak again.

“Do you know why I keep my angels around, lovely?”

“No, Master.”

“Because they’re pretty, and they obey me. Now, you’re much prettier than they are, and you’ve been _such_ _a_ _good girl_. It seems a shame to kill you when you cold be my _best_ angel yet.” She brushed her fingers more gently through Yasmin’s hair, stopping in front of her, and gesturing for her to stand. “Are you going to be a good little angel for me, Yasmin Khan?”

“Yes, Master.”

The Master grinned, a manic glint in her eye as she grabbed the front of Yasmin’s shirt, dragging her into a rough kiss, leaving her newest ornament’s mouth smeared with scarlet lipstick.

Yasmin just smiled.

She had always been drawn to dangerous beauties, ever since she was a little girl. She’d obsessed over her mother’s lilies, until it had almost killed her. Now, she’d found a new fascination; the Master- _her_ Master. She was ten time’s as beautiful, and ten times as deadly as any flower Yasmin had seen, but she wasn’t afraid.

Some things were just so beautiful they were worth the pain.

Her Master was one of those things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title comes from The Ballad of Sara Berry from 35mm: A Musical Exhabition.
> 
> Some girls were rational, but Sara was not.  
> She stared in mirrors thinking one single thought,  
> There's seven reasons this crown's not good as got,  
> So on the night of prom, mercy!  
> Thus went her plot. 
> 
> Title playlist for all of my Femslash Febuary oneshots can be found here: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5CUnm7fntJlE2mlfQv4jvJ?si=8_tTLDsDRYyC2t9tyOUPDA


	24. Starchips: Just in Two Short Paragraphs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Superhero AU (set in the same universe as Chapter Nineteen): Bill and Heather run into each other on a night out. The flirting goes... well?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apolgies for the late upload, I've been having wifi issues. Also apologies for this chapter being so short and meh. I originally wrote a continuation of the mermaid AU from Chapter Six, and then some Thasmin skinny dipping nonsense, but I wasn't happy with either and these two seemed like a natural enough fit for the theme.

**Day Twenty-Five**   
**Theme: Water**   
**Ship: Bill Potts/Heather**

Bill traced a finger around the rim of her glass, already distinctly bored of waiting around for her friends to return from the bar while she held the table. She wasn’t exactly drunk, at least not yet, but she was buzzed enough that playing around didn’t seem like the worst idea. She dipped a finger just below the rim of the glass, bringing it back out slowly, and drawing the top few inches of the drink with it, forming a perfect, quivering sphere of whatever lime-green cocktail she’d ordered just above the surface for a few seconds, before dropping back down, sending liquid sloshing up the sides of the glass.

Water had always been easier to control than other liquids.

She’d been able to do odd things with water since she was a little girl, and up until recently, she hadn’t thought much of it. People born with innate powers were very rare, and she’d assumed that if it’d really been anything special that she could do it would have been picked up a long time ago. It wasn’t until the Magician had spotted her doing it and seemed interested in showing her how to make the most of it that she’d realised she might be a little more than ordinary.

Realistically, she shouldn’t have had to wait that long. She should have had a lot more time to help her powers grow, and learn to use them properly, but she’d been moved around so much when they first began presenting that she’d slipped through the cracks.

“How’d you do that?”

The voice drew her out of her thoughts, and she quickly pulled her hand away from the drink before she made the surface start bubbling or anything. Glancing up, she was suddenly more than a little mortified. Heather. Of all the people to come over when she was spaced out, tipsy, and playing around with third rate magic tricks.

She shrugged, trying to play it off, though she wasn’t exactly sure how she was going to get away with this one. “Oh, s’ nothing.” She shook her head, “Just a party trick.”

Heather cocked her head slightly, her eyes still focused on the glass. She glanced around, and when the its former occupant didn’t seem to be nearby, she slipped into the seat across the table.

“Can you do it again?”

Bill blinked a few times, “Oh, yeah, uh-“ She tried to think of some clever line to tag onto the end of that one, but gave up rather quickly. Flirting had never been her strong suit. Tracing a finger over the outside of the glass she made the same thing happen again, lifting a little sphere of green liquid past the surface, and getting it right to the rim of the glass before it fell apart.

She looked a little sheepish, “I’m better with water, normally. It’s something to do with the water molecules being blocked by…” She trailed off, realising that half-remembered science talk she’d picked up from one of the Magician’s rants probably wasn’t the best way to get a girl. “Sorry, didn’t mean to get all boring- I don’t understand half of it anyway. I’m just working with this professor- not like, _the_ Professor but- Well. I’m working on learning to control it and he goes off on all these rants about the science behind it all the time and- and I’m doing it again, sorry.”

Somehow, it had apparently worked well enough, at least if Heather’s laugh was anything to go by. It didn’t _sound_ particularly derisive, at least, so she was _hoping_ that she was one of those people who was charmed by stuff like that. Bill didn’t get much more chance to overanalyse, because a moment later Heather was leaning across the table and her brain as good as short circuited.

“You said you’re better with water?”

Bill nodded, trying to focus on the conversation and not the fact that she was closer to Heather than she’d actually been before, and she was giving her a playful little smile which was making it very difficult to focus on anything else.

“Can you keep a secret?”

“Yeah?”

Heather leant back, and stretched a hand out across the table, taking a quiet breath. For a moment or so nothing happened, before water began to run down her sleeve, seemingly from nowhere. She glanced around nervously, making sure nobody was looking at them. Water continued to drip from the ends of her fingers, though it disappeared again the instant it hit the table, as though it was being absorbed by the wood.

“How’d you do that?” Bill asked, eyes wide.

“It’s just a party trick.” Heather gave her a knowing smile.

“Right…” Bill sat back. “Is that to do with…” She made a vague gesture towards her own eye, looking a little sheepish. She was curious, but she didn’t want to offend.

Leaning in conspiratorially, Heather smirked at her. “Mhm. It’s a symbol of an ancient bloodline with great powers. Only shows up every few genorations”

“What, really?”

She laughed, tilting her head slightly in a way that might have been intentional, since it did make the odd star-shape in her eye a little more noticeable. 

“No. It’s just a weird pigment thing. I keep meaning to see about getting it fixed. That-“ She waved her fingers slightly, sending a few droplets of water flying, though they’d all gone before they hit anything. “Was just a sort of wrong place wrong time thing.”

“Sounds like an interesting story.”

“You’d think.”

“Can I hear it?”

Heather shrugged. “I don’t remember much of it. Wrong place wrong time, like I said. Some lady with a power complex blew up a vat of alien something-or-over and I wound up covered in it.”

“And now you can make water?” Bill looked impressed, “Just like that?”

“It’s more like I can turn into water.”

She wasn’t entirely sure where the sudden spark of confidence came from- maybe it was just because Heather had so clearly set her up for the line, but Bill couldn’t help herself.

“Well, I’m pretty good with water.”

“I bet you are.”

“Music in here’s crap. Do you wanna maybe-“ Bill glanced towards the door, still smiling a little wider than she would have liked.

“Won’t your friends miss you?”

Bill glanced back towards the bar at the group she’d came in with, before picking her bag back up. “I’ll text ‘em- I’m sure they’ll understand.”

She was definitely going to get it in the neck tomorrow about leaving without saying anything to them, but somehow, she got the impression it was gonna be worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title comes from An Old Fashioned Love Story from The Wild Party.
> 
> I'm gorgeous!  
> I'm single!  
> I'm bustin' with laughs!  
> So why can't I be just in two short paragraphs of a  
> You betcha!  
> Damn funny!  
> Lesbian love story.
> 
> Chapter title playlist can be found here: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5CUnm7fntJlE2mlfQv4jvJ?si=8_tTLDsDRYyC2t9tyOUPDA


	25. Misffle: Love is Like a Small Umbrella

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When things go very wrong for Clara on an outing, salvation comes from the most unlikely source.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This barely fits the theme but I've been trying to find an excuse to use 'A Small Umbrella' to title a Missy story since Day One and this is the last day that wasn't planned in advance.

**Day Twenty-Six**   
**Theme: Silver**   
**Ship: Missy/Clara Oswald**

Realistically, the plan had been a bad one. They were in uncharted territory surrounded by hostiles, they should never have split up- but they’d gotten cocky about how well things had been going, and now it looked like it was going to kill them. They’d agreed on a time to meet back up, but the Doctor had never turned up (something which worried her almost as much as her current predicament), and now she was stuck trying to not die on a very hostile planet.

Clara was hardly a survival expert, but she knew a few basics. Find shelter, water, and then food. So far step one and two had her stumped- she’d found a rocky outcrop to rest against that blocked enough of the wind, but it wasn’t great, and the darkness was setting in fast. She was _freezing_. Step two? Well she was doing a little too well on that point. It hadn’t stopped raining for hours, and her (admittedly impractical) dress was soaked through.

Her situation was bad- _very_ bad- and she didn’t have a clue how to get out of it. Curled in on herself pressed against the face of the cliff in an attempt to conserve what heat she could, she shut her eyes tight, desperately trying to think of a way out.

All at once, the raindrops which had been falling fast and heavy against her cheek stopped.

Clara opened her eyes cautiously, though in the half-light she couldn’t see much, the rain making everything seem to blur into a mess of shining silver. There were a pair of patent boots close enough that she could see their glossy cover, and when she found the strength to look up she could see a set of purple skirts in some heavy skirts that hadn’t yet been soaked through, though they were just beginning to darken. When she finally looked up properly, she saw why- the figure standing over her was holding their umbrella out to cover Clara rather than herself, and so was just beginning to feel the rain’s effects.

“Well, don’t just lie there, then, else we’ll both be soaked.” The voice was familiar, as was the irritation in her tone- though Clara was sure she could detect a hint of concern behind it.

“M-M..Mis-s-“ Her teeth were chattering far too badly for her to speak.

“Hush now, Poppet.”

Missy was bending down, now, looking Clara over quickly, before helping her to her feet. Though she wouldn’t usually like to, she had to lean against Missy for support, her body feeling weak enough with cold that she didn’t trust her legs not to give way underneath her. Not for the first time she had cause to be grateful for the increased strength of Time Lords.

Of course, walking off alone with Missy was never a safe option, but given a choice between taking her chances with the psychopath and freezing to death in an alien jungle she was happy to take the chance.

She could hear Missy muttering to herself about ‘stupid fragile humans’, and then a coat was being wrapped around her shoulders like a blanket, and she was enveloped in a smell of sweet perfume that overwhelmed the odd alien tang of the plants around them.

They walked for a short while, huddled under the umbrella which Missy certainly seemed to be holding more to cover Clara than herself. Eventually they stopped and she found herself being ushered her through a door that swung rather absurdly from a tree, not that she was in any state to think about the impossibility of that fact. She was used to impossible by now.

For example, an hour or so before the idea of being saved from death by the Time Lady who kept trying to kill her would have seemed an impossible thing, and yet there she was.

The warmth that hit her when she came through the door was almost overwhelming, and she found herself being lowered into an old-fashioned arm-chair with surprising gentleness, still wrapped in the borrowed coat.

By the time she’d actually come back into herself enough to stop shivering and start paying a little more attention to her surroundings she’d been wrestled out of her soaked dress and into a borrowed nightdress, had her hair pinned up off the back of her neck, and been wrapped in a thick wool blanket.

She was in the console room of Missy’s TARDIS, that was for sure. It looked a lot different to the Doctor’s, and nothing like she would have expected, but it somehow fit her well. If she’d been asked what it would look like prior to entering, she’d have guessed it’d be all morose purple lighting and dark panelling- more of haunted house vibe. In reality there were ornate wrought-iron railings covered in climbing roses, and furniture that would have looked at home in a Victorian parlour, sitting on a burnished silver floor around a steampunk-style console emitting a soft purple glow. It was almost sweet how homey it felt- and she found herself picturing the Time Lady fussing over her roses or sitting in here reading, just like the Doctor did in his console room.

Sometimes it was easy to forget just how similar the two of them were.

She had just stood up to take a look at the books on her shelf, when Missy was bustling in holding a tea-tray.

“Ah!” She began sharply, pointing back to the chair. Clara froze, feeling very much like a schoolchild who’d just been scolded. “I didn’t drag you back all this way just for you to die of your own stupidity and make a mess.” Her tone was sharp, but there was something akin to concern behind her eyes. Clara sank back into the chair without argument.

“You saved me.” It wasn’t a question, she was just stating a fact.

Missy shifted, uncomfortable, and didn’t meet her eyes as she pressed a full teacup into her hands. “Well. It’s not my fault your Doctor can’t do his job.”

Her eyes narrowed in concern when she noticed that Missy was still soaked, her coat swept away with the rest of Clara’s things, her heavy skirt dripping water from its hem, and her shirt plastered to her skin.

“You must be freezing.”

Missy looked down at herself as though she’d only just noticed, and, briefly, looked embarrassed. “I’m not as fragile.” She replied a little too curtly. “It’s not a problem.”

“Missy-“ Clara’s voice was more gentle than even she’d intended it, and she found herself reaching out with one hand, catching one of hers. She flinched slightly at the contact, but didn’t pull away. Her hands were ice. “Go worry about yourself. I promise I’ll be fine.”

Missy scoffed. “You think I’m worried about you? No- No I’m.” She made a gesture towards the console. “I’m not about to leave you alone in here, Dearie.”

“You just did.”

That seemed to throw her off for a moment. There was a long pause, before she looked Clara over, and said, “Fine. But you stay in that chair, don’t touch anything, and don’t do anything stupid to get yourself killed.”

Clara’s smile was almost fond that time as she watched Missy over the rim of her teacup. “Fine.”

By the time Missy returned, wearing a deep blue skirt and a grey pinstriped shirt, though she hadn’t gotten around to tying her hair up. It was jarring to see her walking around like that, with drying curls falling around her shoulders. She had to wonder if this was how she normally dressed when she was home, and didn’t have to put on the show.

“Well. Glad to see you can follow simple instructions.”

“Thank you. For saving me.” Clara murmured, hesitating for a moment, before standing. She ducked forwards to hug the woman around her waist, before she could lose her nerve and back away. Missy’s reaction was so similar to the Doctor’s it was almost comical- the stunned look and spluttering noises and arms hovering above Clara’s back as though she wasn’t sure what to do with them.

“Don’t get all sentimental, it’s just no fun if you freeze to death out there. I want the Doctor to be there when I kill you.”

The bite of the threat was slightly lessened when Missy’s arms finally wrapped around her in return, and she caught the scent of that alien perfume again. Still, she didn’t question it- testing her might not be the best idea, even if she was beginning to doubt Missy would actually hurt her.

As she retook her seat, Missy sat down in the armchair opposite hers and finally filled her teacup. “How did you end up in that state anyway?”

Panic suddenly began to set in again. “I was supposed to meet the Doctor and he didn’t- Oh god, what if he’s hurt somewhere? We need to go find him.”

Missy smirked ever so slightly over the rim of her teacup. “He’s been captured, that’s all.”

“How do you know?”

“I make it my business to know.”

Clara gave her a look. “…You’re running this place, aren’t you?”

“Yes I am.”

She sighed. “So you’ll let him go?”

Missy took a long sip of her tea. “Nope.”

“But you can’t just-“

“I have him a pretty new toy to play with and he leaves it-“

“I’m sorry, _it_?”

“Don’t be sensitive. _Her_ , then. He leaves _her_ in the rain to get ruined? He gets to stew for that. I’ll drop you off once you don’t look as much like you’re about to die and you can run around and play hero.”

“But I can’t just sit here and leave him in prison.”

Missy rolled her eyes, though Clara could have sworn there was some level of fond exasperation in the look she got next.

“It’s a _time machine_ , dear.” She gestured to the console, “ I can drop you off right after he gets in there.” She paused, before leaning forwards, pulling the blanket a little tighter around Clara’s shoulders.

“And you’ll do that?”

“If it makes you stop whining.” Missy huffed, grabbing her umbrella. She pressed a button on the handle and it made a familiar sonic buzzing noise. She clicked her tongue when she inspected the readings. “Your body temperature is still low.” She glanced into the teapot, frowning slightly. “I’m going to make another pot. Stay put. You best make yourself comfortable, you’re not leaving until I’m confident you’re not going to die from this.”

“Missy?” Clara called before the Time Lady had fully left the room. She was feeling particularly bold- maybe it was just the after-effects of almost dying. “You look nice with your hair down. It suits you.”

She blinked, looking surprised, “Thank you, dear.” It seemed almost genuine. “Keep saying nice things like that I might never give you back.”

With that threat-come-compliment, Missy was gone, and Clara was left alone, sitting in the armchair and watching her own reflection in the silver floor.

Maybe spending a few days here to recover wouldn’t be the worst thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title comes from A Small Umbrella in the Rain from Little Women.
> 
> Though we are not at all alike,  
> You make me feel alive.  
> Yes, we have that in common,  
> That one small thing in common.  
> Our love is like a small umbrella,  
> In the rain. 
> 
> Chapter title playlist can be found here: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5CUnm7fntJlE2mlfQv4jvJ?si=8_tTLDsDRYyC2t9tyOUPDA


	26. Misffle: Because You've Met Your Match.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clara isn't at all fond of the Davis children's new governess. She's constantly cross, cruel to the children, and seems to know far more than she should- by all accounts Clara should avoid her. So why can't she seem to stay away?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As seems to have happened with most of the AU pieces, this originally had a fair bit of smut in it, but I wanted to keep the rating for this compilation as teen, so if you'd rather read the extended version I'll be posting it as a seperate work which you can read here.
> 
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/29749947

**Day Twenty-Seven**  
Theme: Historical AU  
Ship: Missy/Clara Oswald

There was something very, very off about the Davis’ children’s new governess. Of course, plenty of people might say that there was plenty off about Clara herself. They thought she had ideas above her station, and that she’d be a bad influence on the girls, but- well. There was something _seriously_ off about the nanny.

Unfortunately for her, they seemed to be running into one another a lot recently, since Francesca and Lucy became friends. In all fairness, Clara didn’t see a thing wrong with the Davis girl; she seemed sweet enough, and her mad stories about talking statues could be a lot of fun- she’d have a career as a writer, even if her drawings weren’t up to much. The boy was a handful, but he was so much older than Digby that he rarely bothered them. No, the real issue was that Missy woman.

They’d gotten into arguments more than once- or, as close to arguing as they could without risking their positions. In honesty it was mostly passive-aggressive verbal, excessively polite verbal sparring matches as they sat on a bench in the park and watched the children run around.

Still, there were odd occasions where Clara’s temper would overtake her sense, and she’d leave passive aggressive behind and actually confront the woman.

The last time it’d happened she at least felt she’d had an excuse. Digby had been up sick the whole night, and in bed ill all day, and she’d not slept a wink. Eventually been sent off to keep Francesca busy so he could get some peace, only to run into that awful woman berating one of her charges about the poor-quality of one of her sketches. Now Francesca Davis was hardly going to be a world class artist, but Clara had known a lot worse, and she couldn’t much see how a child’s drawing could be anywhere near important enough to spark that level of outrage.

Against her better judgement, Clara tapped her on the shoulder.

“I’m not sure her father would like you shouting at her like that.” Her voice had a blunt edge to it, born mostly of tiredness, but it certainly seemed to get the woman’s attention. She turned those bright blue eyes on Clara, her eyebrows raised, and spoke in her most dangerously sweet tone.

“And why, pray tell, is that your business?”

“I dislike the way you speak to those children.”

“Excuse me?”

“I think you know precisely what I mean. You were being downright cruel.”

“It’s all part of the job, dear. Not that I’d expect you to know much about that.”

“And what exactly is that supposed to mean?” Clara’s hands flew to her hips- a gesture she tended to avoid when playing this role, but one which served her well enough in dealing with rowdy drunks. Still, she kept her accent up perfectly, stressing each word as though to highlight the difference between herself (or at least her _current_ self) and the Scot.

Missy got closer, to the point that Clara could feel her breath against her face, and her eyes were narrowed dangerously.

“It means, Miss Montague, that you’re hopelessly out of your depth.” Clara shivered at the way that name sounded falling from the woman’s lips, and it was hard not to wonder whether she’d be able to make her real name sound like that; Like a secret that should be held just between them.

She fixed Clara with those intense blue eyes for a full minute, before finally taking a step back and shooting her a shark-like grin that had her heart jumping into her throat. For once in her life Clara decided to keep her mouth shut because frankly she didn’t trust herself to speak.

Missy clapped hr hands, drawing the children’s attention back onto herself from whatever game they’d set up, and sapping Clara out of whatever stupor she’d sent her into.

“Children, with me. We have another field trip to go on, so Lucy-“ She gave the girl a sharp look, “Can finish her sketches.”

Clara heard Lucy whining as the Davis’ children were towed away, but she couldn’t quite snap herself out of whatever that had been and move again, until Digby grabbed her hand.

“Miss Montague are you alright?”

“Wot? Yeah. Yeah I’m fine, love.”

“You’re doing your other voice.” Digby said.

Clara blinked. Her accent had come through thick and heavy- startled out of her performance by that unsettling woman.

“Oh. Yeah- so I am.” She gave him a smile, trying to cover up her slip. “Thas’ parta the fun though isn’t it? Our little secret, you ‘n me.” She tapped her nose conspiratorially, and he laughed in return, so she was pretty sure she’d gotten away with it.

Clearing her throat, she managed to switch back easily enough. She took the child’s hand, beginning to pull him further into the park. “Right. So, we have the whole afternoon- the only question is how we should spend it.”

Clara wasn’t sure why she always seemed to wind up in the Rose and Crown on her day off. It wasn’t even a full day off- like pretty much every other governess in the city she spent Sunday morning taking the children to church and then got a few hours to herself before being expected to return and get them into bed.

By all accounts, the Rose and Crown shouldn’t even have been open, but she doubted there were many pubs in London that actually abided by the Sunday laws. Politicians and police liked a drink at the end of the week as much as the next man, so most were happy to let little places like this get away with using loopholes, or downright lies to keep their doors open.

At least she hadn’t been roped into actually serving this time, so she was allowed to sit perched on the end of the bar (because maybe she was a pint or two deep now, and enjoying the chance to let her hair down) with an ale in one hand, chatting animatedly with old friends. As much as playing Miss Montague gave her much better prospects, it was still nice to get to be Clara Oswald every now and again.

Still, good days never did seem to last, and she was half way through listening to one of the barmaid’s saucier stories when she caught a set of chillingly familiar blue eyes watching her from a corner table.

“Whas she doin’ ‘ere.” Clara muttered, mostly to herself. She glanced at the woman she’d been speaking to, offering her a grin for the story, before saying, “Be back in a mo’, just got to…” and trailing off before she actually had to give an explanation.

She made a beeline for Missy’s table, taking the seat across from her, and slipping back into her polite governess voice with impressive ease. Obviously, her well-worn red dress- now with an added beer stain from a clumsy patron- hardly fit the voice, but she had to work with what she had.

“I didn’t expect to see you in here. I suppose it must be your half-day too?”

Missy raised an eyebrow at her and she felt her heartrate pick up again.

“I enjoy a drink as much as the next woman.”

The full tankard sitting on the table in front of her, and the fact that Clara hadn’t seen her come up to the bar once, said otherwise.

“What are you doing here, then?” Clara asked.

“What are you doing here then?” Missy parroted back, drawing out each syllable in a parody of Clara’s accent. “Come on, Poppet, you don’t have to play Miss Posh-o with me. I watched you sittin’ up there with the rest of ‘em all afternoon.”

Clara visibly deflated, dropping the act remarkably quick. “Whad’ya want then?”

That earned her another of those pretty smirks.

“Oh, nothing, dear. Just wanted to prove myself right.

“Right about what?”

“Right about you being nothing but a silly little girl who’s bluffed her way into a good job.”

“Oi! I’m not-“

Missy cut her off. “Clara, they kept calling you. Suits you much better than Miss Montague. Sweet little _Clara_.”

She should probably have been offended, or worried- Missy could do a lot of damage with this kind of information, and she seemed spiteful enough to do it- but Clara found herself remarkably distracted by the way her name rolled off of this woman’s tongue.

“Never said my name wasn’t Clara Montague.” She tried to argue back, looking around to make sure their conversation wasn’t being listened to.

“Nervous about your little friends finding out what a _wicked_ little liar you are?” Missy raised her voice slightly.

Looking around one more time, Clara noticed a few eyes on them. She glared at Missy, knowing how many questions this could raise; She didn’t need her friends judging her life choices just because one smug woman couldn’t keep her mouth shut. Taking a deep breath, she grabbed Missy’s hand, and quickly began to drag her towards the door, calling an excuse to the friends she’d been sitting with before. She dragged her into the alley behind the bar where they were far less likely to be overheard, looking up at her through the half-light.

“Ooh, you’re kidnapping me now? How exciting.” Missy drawled, making Clara drop her hand. She made no move to leave.

“I just don’ want you runnin’ your mouth off in there.” Clara crossed her arms over her chest. Her eyes were blazing as they met Missy’s icy ones, but she wasn’t ready to back down. “You could get me in some real trouble.”

“Oh I _could_.” She looked delighted at the prospect. “I could run straight to your boss and get you sent packing back behind a bar.” She leant a little closer, smirk still etched across her face. “ But where would the fun in that be?” 

“Stop that.” Clara said, though all of the fight from earlier had ebbed out of her voice. If Missy wasn’t here to get information on her- or at least not to use that information for anything, then why had she bothered coming all this way on her one evening off?

“Do you really want me to stop, dear?” Missy was close now, close as she’d been that day in the park. It would have been easy to step back- disengage and leave this maddening woman behind, but in all honesty, she wasn’t sure she wanted to. There were fingers at her jaw, now, cupping her cheek, with a thumb stroking uncharacteristically gentle over her skin. When the woman spoke again, her accent was a little thicker, and she was so close Clara could feel her breath against her skin. “Tell me to stop, Clara, and I’ll stop.”

It was Clara who closed the gap between them, and she got some small, satisfied thrill from the brief moment of panicked hesitation from Missy- she’d not been expecting that.

It wasn’t as though Clara had never kissed before- it wasn’t even the first time she’d ever kissed a woman (if those hurried pecks while practicing snogging with friends even counted), but somehow this was different from any kiss she’d had before. Their heights were far closer so she wasn’t forced to push herself onto tiptoes, and something about the way they fit together was just far more natural than it’d been with anybody else. The older woman wasn’t being overly gentle with her, but there was a sweetness to the thing all the same, and when they did finally break apart, it was Missy who pulled back. leaving Clara chasing her lips for a few seconds before she remembered herself.

“Bloomin’ hell, that was-“

“Yes it certainly was.” Missy nodded, one hand still cupping Clara’s face in a way which might have been tender, had she been anybody else. She seemed significantly less stunned by the whole affair than Clara was, so it probably made sense why she was the first to disengage entirely, straightening her coat. “Not that I wouldn’t love to continue but-“ She glanced up, “Tongues will wag, and all that. Wouldn’t want you to lose your job.”

Clara felt her heart leap at that comment. At least that seemed a kind of promise Missy wasn’t

about to rat her out to her boss.

“Oh, yeah. Yeah you’re right, we shouldn’t-“

“I assume you take the children to St Peter’s on a Sunday?”

“I do, yeah. I’ve seen you there with Lucy and Oliver- I mean, I saw you this mornin’”

“Do you think you’d be able to persuade Mr Latimer to let you go straight from the church?”

Clara thought for a minute, before nodding. “I mean, yeah. Should be easy enough.”

“There’s a lovely tearooms just down the street from there. Do you know it? I’ll meet you there after the service.” She said, before turning on her heel and striding off, not even bothering to wait for an answer. She called, “’Til the next time, Miss Montague.” over her shoulder, without even looking back.

“It’s Oswald.” Clara called out, almost immediately feeling a little stupid, when Missy turned to face her.

“Pardon?”

“It’s Oswald. Not Montague.”

Missy gave her a grin which still held that dangerous edge, though it didn’t look quite as wicked as the last. She dipped into a half-mocking little curtsy, before saying, “Well than, ‘til the next time, _Clara Oswald_.”

Clara watched her go, taking a deep breath, and letting her eyes fall shut as she leant against the brick wall of the pub.

Maybe she could learn to like that infuriating woman after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title comes from Brimstone and Treacle (Part Two) from Mary Poppins because what else would this one be?.
> 
> I recognise fully that you are a bully,  
> Who views cruel deeds as a perk!  
> Well now here's a catch  
> Because you've met your match.  
> Brimstone and treacle (Brimstone and treacle)   
> Brimstone and treacle won't work!
> 
> Title playlist for all of my Femslash Febuary oneshots can be found here: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5CUnm7fntJlE2mlfQv4jvJ?si=8_tTLDsDRYyC2t9tyOUPDA


	27. Thrissy: Live Before We Die (and Dance)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor is alone, about to regenorate, and throwing herself one hell of a pity-party in a seedy bar. For once, the Universe decides to be kind, and she runs into an old friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not as happy with this as I'd like to be for the last chapter, but that's the nature of a fic-a-day challange- I don't get the time I want to make each perfect. Thank you so much to everyone who's been reading this series- it really means a lot to me that you've stuck around for this many nonsense oneshots.

**Day Twenty-Eight**  
Theme: Hands  
Ship: Missy/Thirteen

“So. What’s your story, Poppet?”

The Doctor leant on the bar slightly, two drinks deep and a little too tipsy to process the eerily familiar voice drifting in from somewhere behind her. She kept her eyes firmly focused on her cup, trying to ignore the faint golden whisp which came snaking off of her hand. She still had time.

“What makes you think I have a story?” She asked after a long moment, suddenly very intent on trying to fish a lime-green cherry out of the bottom of her glass. She hadn’t exactly come here to make friends- it was childish, but she didn’t need an intrusion on her little pity-party.

Someone brushed against her side, leaning over the bar and snagging a brown-glass bottle when none of the staff were looking, with a practiced ease that suggested she’d done it a million times before.

“This is the best bar in the Universe just as long as you’re with the Cyxeet Mafia, or you don’t value your life- and the rainbows aren’t exactly screaming mobster to me”

The Doctor drained her glass. “You’re clever.” She remarked, still refusing to look up, because she wasn’t doing this again- she _refused_ to go through that kind of heartbreak again. She’d sworn off it after Amy, but Clara had wormed her way in. Bill and the fam had been accidents- they’d been dragged into this with no say from her. She wasn’t about to go picking up any more clever, wonderful people and getting attached because it never, ever ended well for her.

“More than you know.” The Doctor slammed her empty cub back down onto the bar a little more loudly than was strictly necessary. “Do tell me about this death wish of yours.”

“I don’t have a death wish.” The Doctor insisted, though the words came just a little too quick to be real. In fact, the further she got from the battle that had caused this the more she knew she should have seen this coming.

Maybe on some level she had.

“Well you can say that much all you like, but that doesn’t mean I’m about to-“

The Doctor fell silence, any words which had been dancing at the tip of her tongue only suddenly felt unimportant. She should have realised sooner- there weren’t many species in this type of place who would bother stealing a bottle of ginger-bear from a fully stocked bar. Missy. Who else would find her when she just wanted to die in a foolish stupor and not think about having to change again, or the Timeless Child, or all that she’d lost.

She was growing old, and beginning to get very, very sick of changing.

The Master- this version of them, at least, had been lost to her a very, very long time. What was left of their friendship had died along with Gallifrey- and yet somehow, she couldn’t bring herself to resent all those years trying to help them learn to change. It was the closest they’d been in years, and even if it’d been soured, she wouldn’t change the time they’d had. 

If she was dying anyway, why not indulge herself, however briefly? That’s what this whole night was, after all. A self-indulgent night to mourn this version of herself that had spent so much time locked away in the most deadly nightclub she could think of. She’d wanted as little chance as possible of running into someone _nice_.

The Doctor hadn’t accounted for just how many friends she had who didn’t fit that description. Whatever version of her came next would likely regret doing so, but she couldn’t help but feel that she didn’t owe them much of anything.

“Missy-“ She said the name as though it was a simple statement, the word feeling as heavy as lead and twice as toxic in her mouth.

“We’ve met before?” The surprise on Missy’s face was evident, and the Doctor thought, briefly, that she could see something more nervous hidden behind the mask of respectability.

She raised an eyebrow, before a slight smirk crossed her face. She so rarely got to be the one making the dramatic reveal- that had always been a pleasure the Master earned

“Our paths crossed briefly, back when you were a man.” The Doctor mimicked words that the Master hadn’t said yet back at her. A joke like that wouldn’t be funny to anyone but her, but frankly, she didn’t care.

“Well. You haven’t run yet, so you have a strong stomach.” Missy looked her up and down, clearly trying to remember her face. “Or you’re just very stupid, which given you’re in a place like this-“

“Your hand!” The Doctor’s voice startled even herself, and earned her an awful lot of dirty looks from other patrons, but she couldn’t help it. There were golden whisps of energy dancing feebly between Missy’s fingers as her hand wrapped around the bottle and she took a swig. “You’re dying.”

“Very astute observation, dear. Do you want a gold-star?” Missy gave her a sarcastic look, before taking another, heavier swig, as though the reminder hadn’t been what she was looking for.

The Doctor paused, waiting a second or two before holding her own hand out towards Missy, palm up, and letting a little of that golden light- far brighter as it leapt across her skin- show through.

“Snap.” She murmured, somehow not getting the sense of triumph she’d been hoping for, even despite the expression of shock on Missy’s face. “

“You’re telling me you finally regenerated into a woman after however many centuries and I missed it?” She said, looking so personally offended by the whole thing that the Doctor couldn’t help but laugh.

“We’re out of sync. You’ll see it.”

Missy glanced up at her, eyes suddenly sharp despite the drink. “You’ve seen me? A me _after_ this me?”

“Two.” The Doctor confirmed, taking a sip of her own drink.

“Hm. I must have more left than I thought.”

Raising an eyebrow, she turned to look at Missy, and then back to her hand. The glow was a lot fainter against her skin than the Doctor’s.

“I’m not regenerating. I’m burning out, again.” A shadow of something crossed the self-christened Time Lady’s face again. She’d burned once before, a very long time ago, and the memory of that agony was fresh enough that she didn’t want to repeat it. “I’ve been setting something up- something… Well, it’s a risk, but it would let me start fresh. But, it’ll be morning before it’s charged and ready. I didn’t think I’d last the night.”

“You shot yourself.” There was a slight pause, and despite everything that had happened between her and the Master she’d known most recently, she reached out a hand, taking Missy’s before she could protest. “I didn’t know. I should have come looking. I’m sorry.”

That seemed to stun Missy enough to give the Doctor an in. It was a tricky process when she was mid-regeneration herself, and a risky one (it wasn’t as though she had any indicator of how much regeneration energy she actually had), but doing this one thing felt like she was making up for every time she’d failed her oldest friend.

“What’re you doing?” Missy suddenly sounded alarmed as the glow surrounding their joined hands intensified tenfold, drawing suspicious eyes. Fortunately, between them they had enough of a reputation to keep even _this_ crowd from interfering with them. “No- No, stop that, Doctor, you can’t just-“

She dropped her hand and the glow subsided. “You said you needed until morning. That should be enough.” 

Missy clicked her tongue like a disgruntled schoolmistress scolding a reckless child. “Since when are you so flippant with your lives? That’s my thing.”

“Spoilers.”

Missy rolled her eyes. “That wife of yours has a lot to answer for.”

The Doctor smiled. It’d been so long that a real smile felt alien on her face.

“Thank you.”

“Just paying back a little of the karma I owe.” The Doctor shrugged. There was a long, awkward pause, before she eventually asked, “What were your plans for tonight?”

“Oh, you know. Drink myself into a stupor, and then die. The usual.”

The Doctor held her hand out towards her oldest again, smiling despite herself.

“One last night for both of us. Dance with me.”

Missy glanced around them. “You are ridiculous. This isn’t that kind of place and you know it.”

“And if they fire one shot at wither of us mid-regeneration this whole place goes up in flames.” The Doctor glanced around. The nearest patrons were pointedly looking away from them. When Missy didn’t budge, she leant forwards again to whisper in the brunette’s ear. “Dance with me, Kos.”

A moment later the click of Missy’s heels could be heard alongside the sound the Doctor’s boots. “If you start doing that drunk giraffe thing, I’m leaving.”

The Doctor pulled her in without letting her complain any more. She held her like they were about to waltz, despite the music being entirely wrong.

Maybe this Doctor’s last night didn’t have to be a pity party after all. Maybe, this once, the Universe was being inexplicably kind, and giving her one last chance.

One last dance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title comes from Live Before We Die from The Addams Family Musical.
> 
> The world we see can only be our friend,  
> If you and me keep dancing 'til the end.   
> Can't we see eye to eye and oversimplify?  
> Let's live before we die,  
> And dance. 
> 
> Title playlist for all of my Femslash Febuary oneshots can be found here: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5CUnm7fntJlE2mlfQv4jvJ?si=8_tTLDsDRYyC2t9tyOUPDA


End file.
